


The Inescapable Dean Winchester

by gefhrlich



Series: If You Wanna Rock 'N' Roll [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Pie, lawyer!Cas, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-20 18:22:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3660492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gefhrlich/pseuds/gefhrlich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has been infatuated with Dean Winchester since he was fifteen years old.  And despite the years that pass, he just can’t shake the man.  Then again, he isn’t sure he wants to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Castiel met Dean Winchester was a gray and soggy Saturday in late spring. Up until the moment Castiel laid eyes on the sandy-haired neighbor boy and his gangly little brother, Castiel had considered that rainy day to be the most loathsome of his fifteen years on earth. After spending over nine and half hours in the cramped backseat of his mother’s minivan, squashed between his brother and sister and leaving the only home he’d ever known behind him, Castiel had assertively deemed the day unsalvageable. But luck shone down on Castiel that afternoon in the form of one flannel-clad boy with emerald green eyes. 

Castiel’s first impressions of Lawrence, Kansas were that it was of a decent size and quaint, like a town dragged right out of one those 1950s television programs that Castiel used to watch with his grandmother on weekday afternoons. The streets were straight and narrow and lined with little square buildings housing local shops and eateries. Leafy green trees edged sidewalks and roadways. 

Lawrence was a college town and Castiel’s mother assured him and his siblings that there would be no shortage of hustle and excitement in the little city and expected they would not miss Chicago in the slightest. Ever practical and paranoid, Castiel’s father then informed them that college towns often have crime rates to rival that of larger cities and that they were in no way allowed to “run amok."  

To this statement, Castiel’s older brother Gabriel had laughed outright and sneered mirthfully. “It’ll be just like living in _The Wire_ , except with more corn.” 

Gabriel snatched one of his younger sister Anna’s naked Barbie dolls from her lap and brandished it like a gun, pointing the little plastic legs at Castiel’s temple and yanking the arm like a trigger. “All in the game yo, all in the game,” he mimicked. 

Castiel just rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics while little Anna giggled uncontrollably. Gabriel was seventeen and had nearly been expelled from the private Catholic school he attended with Castiel and Anna back in Chicago after an incident with some illegal fireworks in the girls’ locker room. There was also the time he hijacked the school mascot suit during the homecoming game and did some particularly lurid dance moves before vomiting cheap tequila and pizza bagels all over the horns section of the band. And of course the underage drinking, pot smoking during school hours and fraternization with public school girls didn’t help his case. 

When Castiel’s father, a low level banker from a large corporate bank in Chicago, was offered a job as a branch manager in Lawrence, he decided that it was just what the Novak family needed. He figured that getting his good Christian family out of the big, dirty city and into what he referred to as “God’s Country,” would save his delinquent son, his frivolous six-year-old daughter and his morose middle child from the clutches of Satan. 

Unlike his brother, Castiel’s discontent with the move had little to do with boredom or a lack of available debauchery. Castiel was smart, he knew as much, but as is often the case with the highly intelligent, social graces did not befall him. Since childhood, Castiel preferred to spend his time buried between the pages of a book or quietly studying in the school library. Making friends always came as a challenge to him as the other kids his age were rarely charmed by his vast vocabulary or unusual manner of speaking. Fortunately for him, or perhaps not so fortunate in his current situation, Castiel’s school in Chicago housed students from the early, formative years of kindergarten through the twelfth grade. While Gabriel found this insulated community suffocating, it allowed for Castiel to maintain the friendships he formed in his youth, before the self-consciousness, segregation and cruelty of the preteen years. Castiel and his best friend Chuck had met in the first grade when Chuck’s mom moved to Chicago. Since their meeting, Chuck and Castiel spent the majority of their relationship in companionable silence as they worked on school projects or flipped through comic books on the floor of Chuck’s room. It was an easy kind of friendship, simple and unencumbered. 

But now, Castiel would have to start all over again. When his father informed the family of the move to Lawrence over dinner a month ago, Castiel was filled with a heavy sinking dread that had not let up since the fateful announcement, but rather formed into something hard and weighty that lived in his gut and kept him from restful sleep. 

They arrived in front of their new Kansas home in the late afternoon. It was on the outskirts of town and there were only a handful of other houses on the block. The moving van was already parked outside their destination and a couple of older men with bent backs and sweaty t-shirts were hauling a couch down a metal ramp and into the house. 

The sky was as gray as Castiel’s mood as he heaved himself from the car, legs stiff from disuse, and approached the house. He barely even bothered to look at the place, simply dragging his backpack from the back seat and trudging toward the front door, purposely stepping into every puddle along the way until the soles of his shoes were squelching with each step. Resigned to his fate, Castiel lifted his eyes to take in his surroundings. 

He only got so far as to deem the house rather ordinary (walls, a roof, a front door, some windows, the usual), before a big black car rolled into the driveway next door, engine rumbling and purring like a jungle cat. The doors swung open to reveal a tall man with broad shoulders and dark hair peppered with gray. He had a stern face and a heavy gait and he walked directly into his house without so much as a glance at the moving van parked outside nor the Novak family that accompanied it. 

The man was followed by two boys not far from Castiel’s age. One of them was tall, with shaggy brown hair and appeared rather awkward, like someone had stretched his arms and legs too far, leaving him wobbly like string cheese out of the package. But the other boy, _oh my._   

Castiel felt his cheeks heat and something pull tight in his gut the second he laid eyes on that face, dotted with golden freckles and two big green eyes that crinkled at the corners as he threw an arm playfully around the gangly boy’s shoulders, pulling him into a headlock and ruffling the shaggy hair. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a checkered over shirt rolled up to his elbows so Castiel could see strong forearms, tanned from long days in the sun. The boy smiled widely as his long-haired captive flailed under his grip and Castiel felt his heart stutter to a stop. _My god,_ it was like he had absorbed all the light of the sun and left the day gray and wan while this boy just radiated golden light and heat. 

Castiel was so busy staring blatantly and unabashedly at his beautiful neighbor that he didn’t notice Gabriel had come up behind him until he felt a hard pinch to the soft part at the back of his arm. Castiel yelped loudly and the two boys roughhousing in the yard next door turned abruptly. The boy with the hair and the body made of string cheese peered up from his head-locked position under the other boy’s arm while the blondish one with _those eyes_ and _that face_ quirked a half-smile and gave Castiel and his brother a quick nod. Gabriel waved back nonchalantly and gave his younger brother a little shove toward the front door. Unfortunately, Castiel’s body had gone into full lockdown after the casual eye contact from the neighbor boy and he stumbled gracelessly, barely catching himself on a Rhododendron bush as he tumbled to the ground. Of course, rather than standing and meeting what was probably an amused or judgmental stare from Mr. Adonis Next Door, Castiel just laid there for a few moments too long, praying the ground would open up and swallow him whole. When his prayers went unanswered, Castiel leapt to his feet and sprinted to the front door and darted inside, breathing heavily. 

“Christ, Cassie. Way to play it smooth,” Gabriel snickered as he passed. 

“Shut up,” Castiel muttered, following his brother up the stairs to find their rooms.


	2. Chapter 2

It was still raining the following morning when Castiel woke. He opened his eyes and noted that the light was all wrong. The ceiling over his head was different and the mattress beneath him, unfamiliar. Waking in his new room in this new house didn’t feel anything like home; it felt like trespassing. He half feared the room’s true owner would return to it and catch Castiel in their bed like Goldilocks. But to Castiel’s disappointment, there was no such interruption. This was home now and he was going to have to get used to it. 

Castiel and his family spent the day unpacking an endless mountain of neatly arranged and labeled boxes, courtesy of his mother’s obsessive nature. That is to say, Castiel, Anna and their parents unpacked while Gabriel camped on the living room couch with headphones and a box of Oreos. Predictably, Castiel’s father had spent the first few hours of the day yelling himself hoarse about Gabriel’s various shortcomings, all of which fell upon deaf ears. 

“You need to make an effort, young man! Show some initiative. You’re letting your life pass you by.” Their father continued this way, rephrasing the same exhausting criticism followed by vague advice until Gabriel looked blue in the face. 

“Your father’s right, son. Idle hands do the devil’s work,” their mother chimed in. 

But Castiel’s stubborn older brother stood his ground, or rather laid on it. He simply threw an enthusiastic pair of jazz hands at his mother, put his headphones back on and closed his eyes. 

Castiel, on the other hand, was not subject to his father's criticism. Instead, he was praised for offering to unpack the boxes in the kitchen. Of course, his father would have been significantly less pleased had he understood Castiel's motives and the fact that the kitchen window looked directly into the sitting room of the house next door. On two lucky occasions, the sandy-haired boy wandered by, causing Castiel's breath to catch in his throat. The third time he came into view, the boy plopped down onto the couch with his legs stretched out and one hand pillowed behind his head as he idly flipped through the pages of a magazine. 

"You know, you could quit lurking like the creep you are and just go say hi." Gabriel's voice in Castiel's left ear caused him to start violently, flinging the coffee cup he was pretending to place in the empty cupboard into space. Castiel cringed when the thing hit the floor, shattering into bits. As if catching the flurry of movement through the window, Dean glanced up. Castiel, in all his elegance and wisdom, ducked. 

"Shit," Castiel muttered, bending to pick up the jagged pieces of ceramic. "Don't sneak up on me like that." 

"I guess creeping runs in the family," Gabriel said with a smirk as he stepped over the mess to glare into the empty fridge. "Why is there never any food around this family?" 

"Because you eat it all. It's a wonder we don't all waste away," said Castiel. It was true; Gabriel was like a human garbage disposal, consuming every snack and leftover dinner before it had even gone cold on the shelf. 

"Calling me fat, Cassie?" 

"Hm, now that I'm looking at you..." Castiel retorted before his brother smacked him upside the head, causing him to drop the pieces of the broken cup he had collected, shattering them further at Castiel’s feet.  

"Whatever, I'm bored. I'm going next door to be neighborly and see if that blonde wet dream of yours knows anyplace I can get a good burger and fries," Gabriel said. 

Castiel feigned nonchalance, rather poorly he realized when he heard his brother sigh. "And yes, you can come with." 

  

___________________ 

  

Castiel thought his heart might pound straight out of his chest and fall with a splat to the ground as he and Gabriel waited at the neighbors' door. He wiped his sweaty palms on the fronts of his jeans for what was probably the tenth time in the last two minutes. 

When the door swung open, the shaggy-haired boy from the headlock stood there with a crooked smile. "Um, hey?" 

"Hey there little man, my name is Gabe and this is my brother Cassie," Gabriel said casually as Castiel shot him a nasty glare. He hated that nickname. And he was more than certain that this boy had about four inches on his brother and was therefore anything but little.  

"Hi. I'm Sam," the kid responded politely.  

"We just moved in next door and needed a break from all that moving and shaking and thought you might know where a guy could get a burger 'round here," said Gabriel. 

Before Sam could respond, the object of Castiel's affections appeared behind him, throwing an arm around Sam's shoulders and fixing his gaze on Gabriel and Castiel. 

"This is my brother Dean," Sam explained as _Dean_ (the beautiful creature had a name!) lifted his chin in casual greeting as Sam turned to him. "These are our new neighbors. They wanted to know where to get a burger." 

Dean smiled brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling attractively. "Well you've come to the right place, I happen to be a connoisseur." 

"Excellent," Gabriel responded with a mischievous smirk. "You see, my brother here is quite the carnivore. Has a hankering for meat. Lots of thick, juicy meat. He's gotta have it." 

Castiel was beginning to think he'd need to start carrying a shovel with him so he could dig himself a nice hole to live in every time he was humiliated in front of Dean. 

But Dean just huffed a laugh and said, "Don't we all. Follow me. There is a diner around the corner." 

On the walk to the diner, Castiel trailed behind his brother and Dean with Sam while making small talk with the younger boy. Sam was a nice kid. He was smart and funny and shared Castiel's interest in literature. But Sam was also reserved and careful in his word choice, always speaking as if he had something to hide.  

"Are you going to go to school around here?" Sam asked Castiel. 

Castiel shrugged, shoving his hands deep into his pants pockets. "Yeah, I'll start in the fall. It will be my sophomore year." 

"That's cool. I'm still in eighth grade, but you’ll probably go to school with Dean. He's a year ahead of you," Sam said, nodding in his brother's direction. 

Castiel hadn't even thought about that. Focusing on maintaining his 4.0 would be difficult with the possibility of running into Dean around every corner. Living next to a face that perfect was going to be difficult enough. God, Castiel was screwed. 

"So, what do your parents do?" Castiel asked Sam, hoping to casually turn the topic away from Dean in order to maintain normal respiratory function and avoid obvious daydreaming. 

Sam shifted restlessly and Castiel saw Dean shoot his little brother a sideways glance, while Gabriel continued to yammer on about god knows what, probably proper vandalism techniques or a comparative analysis of American versus European pornography. 

"Our dad works down at our uncle Bobby's auto body shop. Well, he’s not _really_ our uncle, but we call him that. Our mom died when we were kids," Sam explained, but didn’t offer any more details. 

Castiel didn't know how to reply to that, so he just nodded. Sam seemed to take that as enough of a response and conversation moved on to lighter subjects, like the unseasonable rain and the proximity of the local library to their current location. 

The diner was a long, squat building with a peeling mint-green exterior, wide, dirty windows and a too-large neon “OPEN” sign that buzzed and hummed noisily. The diner sat next to another equally squat, square building in an expansive parking lot riddled with potholes filled with oil slick rain water. The smaller structure had no windows, dark wood slat walls and a rickety wooden door with an orange NO MINORS posting. The façade was crowned with another glowing neon sign that read _Harvelle’s Roadhouse_ in loose script. A bar then. But Dean led them to the other side of the parking lot to the diner and through a swinging glass door with a tinny bell that tinkled when they pushed through. 

"Normally, I come here for the pie, but I have to say, this diner has the best damn burgers that will ever grace your face. Should be enough to curb that _meat craving_ you've got - um, what was your name again?" Dean asked Castiel over his shoulder as he directed them toward a booth with red vinyl seats and a Formica table in the corner of the restaurant. 

And where was Castiel's shovel when he needed it? "It's Castiel." 

Dean gave a low whistle and fixed Castiel with an incredulous look as he slid into his seat next to Sam. "That's a mouthful. Your parents mad at you or something?" 

"It is the name of the angel of Thursday. I was born on a Thursday," Castiel said in a small voice, his face burning. 

"Our parents are pretty into that whole Christ Our Lord and Savior shit," Gabriel offered and Dean gave a knowing look.  

A few moments later, a petite girl with a long blonde ponytail and a short white apron came over to their table. She snapped her gum loudly and fixed Dean with a bored look. 

"What'll it be, Winchester?" She asked, pulling a pen and a pad of paper from her apron pocket. 

"Well, fancy meeting you here, Joanna Beth," Dean said, fixing the waitress with a radiant smile. "Might I say you are looking lovely today."  

"Can it, loverboy. Mom's still pissed you didn't come for dinner on Saturday. Really, Dean? Not even a phone call? You know what she's like. Do you want me to suffer?" 

To Castiel's surprise, Dean dropped his eyes and his face turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. Castiel could write sonnets about that exact color. 

"Yeah, well, something came up," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding the sharp stare of the waitress. 

"Mmhm. Whatever. Hi Sam," she said with another snap of her gum. "Who're the squares?" 

Gabriel snorted loudly but the girl seemed unfazed. 

"These are our new neighbors, Gabe and Cas," Dean offered. "They just moved here from Chicago." 

Castiel faltered. _Cas._ Had Dean just given him a nickname? Castiel normally didn't care for nicknames, usually because they tended to be rather rude or demeaning. Gabriel only called him Cassie because he knew it was a surefire way to send his brother into a huff, which was one of Gabriel's main hobbies. But when _Dean_ said it? That was different. That was _wonderful_. Castiel resisted the urge to just shut his eyes and try and commit the way Dean's mouth had formed around his name to memory so that he could just watch it on a loop in his mind. 

"Cool cool. Welcome to the neighborhood or whatever," Jo said. "So, what can I get you?" 

"The usual, Jo. Double cheeseburger with bacon, extra fries and a chocolate shake," Dean said with a grin. 

"Alright, a heart attack for Dean. Garden burger, Sam?" Jo asked, not even bothering to write their orders on the pad. 

"Yes please," Sam answered. 

 "And you two?" Jo asked, turning to Gabriel and Castiel. 

Castiel hadn't even had time to look at the menu. He usually liked to peruse the list at length and ask recommendations from the staff before making a decision. In fact, Castiel had a tendency to take food rather seriously. He had discovered the Food Network two years ago and had become more than a little obsessed. He had practically begged his mom to send to him to cooking classes and he had received a _gorgeous_ Shun knife set for his birthday last year. Admittedly, Japanese chef knives were a rather odd gift to give a thirteen-year-old boy, but Castiel rarely found himself interested in the normal behaviors and habits of a teenagers. Of course, Castiel's interest had resulted in Gabe calling him Rachel Ray for a month solid (and usually in front of people). Castiel was mildly insulted. He considered himself more of an Ina Garten type anyway. 

"I'll just have what Dean's having," Castiel muttered, his voice small. 

Jo raised her eyebrows and Gabriel pinned Castiel with an amused look. But Dean? Dean _smiled._ Castiel was fairly sure his brain short circuited at this point because he never did hear Gabriel order and the next thing Castiel knew, Jo was gone and Dean, Gabriel and Sam were chatting idly. 

When the food arrived, Castiel had to admit he was a bit overwhelmed. The burger was so enormous he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to get it into his mouth. But Castiel managed, and was rewarded with an explosion of flavor. He wasn't sure he'd ever had a burger this good. He was going to have to talk to the chef, figure out the secret so that he could replicate it, because this hamburger was an epiphany. 

Castiel must have made some rather inappropriate noises because when he opened his eyes (when had he closed them? Oh, this burger really was something), Dean was looking at him, his eyes wide and his mouth quirked in a half smile. Of course, Gabriel and Sam were also staring, but that managed to escape Castiel's notice. 

Castiel flushed and dropped his eyes. "Really good," he mumbled around his food. 

Gabriel snickered and Dean turned to him, "Wow, man. You weren't joking. Kid likes his meat." 

Castiel made it through the rest of lunch without any hugely embarrassing blunders (although there were a number of minor ones, including the rogue glob of ketchup that managed to stain a large portion of Castiel's shirt and the moment where he knocked his water glass into Gabriel's lap when Dean started licking the salt from the tips of his fingers). 

After lunch, the four of them walked back home. The clouds had finally wrung themselves dry and the sun attempted to make an appearance, which, of course, only served to highlight the gold in Dean's hair and illuminate the freckles on his cheeks. Castiel didn't bother trying to engage in too much conversation, instead focusing his energy on not tripping over his own two feet or gazing at Dean too obviously. When they reached the dividing line between their two yards, Sam and Dean waved goodbye. Dean called him _Cas_ again and gave Castiel a friendly clap on the shoulder that left Castiel's arm tingling for at least another fifteen minutes. 

Before Castiel and Gabriel parted ways in the hallway, headed for their separate bedrooms, Gabriel turned to Castiel with that damn knowing smirk. "You are so fucked, bro." 

Castiel just sighed and nodded. Inside his room, Castiel threw himself onto his perfectly made bed and groaned into the pillow. Gabe was right. He was fucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Spring turned to summer and as the days grew hot and the air heavy, Castiel found Kansas growing on him. Well, perhaps it wasn't Kansas _per se._ It might have had something to do with the frequency at which Dean would mow the front lawn shirtless. His skin turned golden with the sun, the freckles across his nose and shoulders more prominent, and Castiel would fantasize about licking the bead of sweat that trickled down the side of Dean's neck.  

Gabriel and Dean had become fast friends and as a direct result, Castiel saw more of Dean, thus minutely reducing the frequency of nervous blunders. In fact, Castiel would go so far as to say that he and Dean had a sort of friendship as well. It was, of course, far less familiar than Dean and Gabe's, but Castiel was at least able to make it through a conversation with Dean with minimal blushing. The downside of all of this was that Castiel got the opportunity to know Dean better, which did nothing to quell his crush.  

Castiel heard the fights from the Winchester house. Hell, he was pretty sure the whole neighborhood could hear them. It quickly became apparent to Castiel that Sam and Dean's father, John Winchester, was a drinker. It was most obvious the time Mrs. Novak found John's big black car parked halfway on her newly seeded lawn, with Mr. Winchester still passed out in the front seat, his blackened, grease-stained fingers wrapped loosely around a bottle of Jack Daniels. To Castiel's surprise, it was Dean who apologized profusely to Castiel's mother, offered to pay to fix the lawn (which Naomi adamantly refused) and dragged his half-conscious father back into the house.  

The majority of the legendary screaming matches coming from the Winchester house were composed of John's deep, booming voice. Although Castiel usually couldn't make out the words (not that he was _trying_ to), there was a violent tone to the voice that gave Castiel goosebumps. Castiel tried bringing it up to Sam one time, but Sam deflected expertly and Castiel never tried again. He wasn't particularly good at discussing sensitive family matters anyway.  

Despite the noisy fights and their father's drinking, Sam and Dean were ridiculously close. Castiel always considered himself to be close to his brother Gabe, but he figured that was mostly in part to the their being so close in age and each other’s only allies in a religious home. But Sam and Dean were different. Dean adored his little brother, that much was obvious. The brothers spent a huge amount of time together and Gabe even told Castiel that Dean was pretty much Sam's primary caregiver. According to Gabriel, Dean made Sam's dinner every night, helped him do his laundry, even got a summer job to help pay for Sam's softball uniform.  

Soon, Castiel's awkward crush on his neighbor had grown into a full blown infatuation. Dean was not only beautiful, but he was good and kind. Castiel couldn't help but watch him. So, while Dean mowed his front lawn, Castiel observed from a lounge chair strategically placed behind a sparse azalea bush. That way, Castiel could track the beads of sweat that rolled down Dean's neck and that spot low on his back above the waistband of his jeans, and Dean would be none the wiser. It was torture, and more than a little bit creepy, Castiel knew that. And it was only a matter of time before he got caught.  

Castiel was pretending to be engrossed in an old paperback when he caught Dean's gaze shift to him around the azalea bush. Dean smiled that damn smile that made Castiel's brain shut down and before Castiel realized what he was doing, he was out of the chair and hiding in his kitchen. It was pathetic really.  

"Fuck, Cassie. You keep acting like that and Winchester is going to think there's something wrong with your head, if he doesn't already," Gabriel said around a mouthful of peanut butter sandwich, echoing Castiel's train of thought. 

Castiel dropped into the seat next to Gabriel and let his head loll on the table. "I'm starting think there _is_ something wrong with my head." 

Gabriel snorted and patted the back of Castiel's mess of unruly black hair. "You might be right. Might as well go for broke. I'm sure Dean's parched from all that mowing and sweating, go bring him a beverage like a good Stepford wife."  

"What?" Castiel muttered into the wood grain of the kitchen table.  

Gabriel got up, dusted the crumbs from his fingers, and went to the cupboard. He pulled out a glass and filled it with lemonade from the fridge before returning to Castiel and slamming the glass down in front of him, causing the liquid to slosh over the edges.  

"Go get 'em, tiger," Gabriel said.  

Castiel rolled his eyes, but grabbed the glass anyway. Bringing Dean something to drink couldn't possibly be the weirdest thing he'd ever done. What did he have to lose? 

When Castiel crossed into the Winchester's back yard, the lawn mower was off and Dean was fussing with bag of clippings. His jeans were slung low and Castiel was very distracted by the vee of his hip bones and the fine trail of hair below his belly button. Castiel shook his head vigorously and tried to make his face resemble a normal expression. Castiel suddenly had no idea what to do with his free hand and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.  

Dean looked up from his work and treated Castiel to that half-smile-half-smirk thing that made Castiel's stomach drop. So, Castiel swallowed hard, straightened his back and thrust the glass of lemonade towards Dean.  

"I brought you lemonade. Thought you might be thirsty," Castiel muttered.  

Dean laughed and took the glass, their fingers brushing slightly. "Thanks, dear," he said jokingly.  

Castiel's face flushed predictably and he fought the urge to dash back into the house and hide under the kitchen table. Dean drained the glass in one go and Castiel pointedly didn't watch the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, or the appealing curve of his neck.  

Castiel cleared his throat. "So, school starts in a few weeks," he said for no reason other than to have an excuse to catalog the different shades of green in Dean's eyes up close before he retreated to his hiding place.  

"Yep. Guess so. Can't say I'm thrilled," Dean grumbled.  

"You're a junior, right?" 

"Yeah. Not sure I'll survive another two years at that shithole." 

Castiel cringed. "Is it that bad?" 

Dean smiled at him and gave him a friendly cuff on the shoulder. "Nah, not for a smart kid like you, anyway." 

"You're smart, Dean," Castiel said immediately.  

"Eh, I'm not a total dummy. But Sammy is the smart one. He gets the good grades and shit. Wants to be a fancy pants lawyer someday," Dean said fondly.  

"And what about you? What do you want to do when you get older?" 

Dean dropped his eyes to his scuffed sneakers and shrugged. "I dunno. Doesn't really matter. I just want Sammy to be happy. I just wanna, you know, get by and shit."  

Castiel frowned at this. "Dean –” he started.  

"Maybe I'll be a mechanic, like my old man. Fix stuff, you know," Dean carried on before fixing Castiel with a mischievous grin and the deadly smirk-smile. "I happen to be pretty good with my hands," he said with a wink.  

A _wink_?!  

Christ. 

At that, Castiel pointedly _does not_ whimper, although he could maybe see how it might have sounded that way to an outsider. But Dean just chuckled good-naturedly and handed Castiel the empty lemonade glass.  

"Thanks for the drink, Cas. That was very neighborly of you. And hey, when school starts up, I'll make sure to show you and Gabe around. You've got nothing to worry about." And then another one of those blinding smiles. It was a wonder Castiel still had his eyesight after the number of those that had been directed at him today.  

"Sure, Dean. Good luck with the -" Castiel meant to gesture at the half-mowed lawn, but his lizard brain wouldn't allow it and it actually looked more like he was gesturing to Dean's naked chest. Wonderful. Very subtle.  

Castiel turned on his heel and dashed back into the safety of his house without looking back, but he thought he heard Dean laughing behind him.  

___________________ 

    

Dean kept to his word and spent some of the first day showing Cas and Gabe around their new high school. Castiel had never been to public school and was reasonably overwhelmed. The students there didn't have to wear uniforms and instead were allowed to wear just about anything they wanted. Dean was wearing his signature low-slung blue jeans, but this pair had rips at the knees. He wore a faded black Led Zeppelin t-shirt that Castiel was certain would be the softest thing in the world, were he allowed to touch it. To Castiel's shock and chagrin, some of the girls wore practically nothing at all, their skirts so short and tight Castiel could see the fabric strain. And even worse was the attention Dean got from these short-skirted, lipgloss-frosted tarts. They were positively hanging off him, flashing their big white teeth and running their manicured fingertips over his chest. Gabriel, of course, was ecstatic about the attention his new friend was receiving, probably hoping to leech off of it, but Castiel struggled to hide his scowl. 

But after that first day, Castiel and Gabriel didn't really hang out with Dean at school. Gabriel quickly fell in with a predictable crowd of hooligans with skateboards, cigarettes and criminal records. Castiel was on his own for the first few days, until he met Charlie and Kevin. Charlie was in his computer class and Castiel instantly liked her irreverent humor and self confidence. He met Kevin in his AP English class, then again in AP history and also advanced Trig. Basically, Kevin was in all of Castiel's classes and, like Castiel, had already finished half of the reading for the first semester before the first day.  

Castiel was reasonably happy at school. He was picked on occasionally for this and that, nothing surprising. He was always in the company of Kevin, Charlie or both and sometimes Castiel would see Dean in the halls. At first, his heart would skip a beat like it always did when he saw him. Sometimes Dean would wave and say, "Hey Cas," and Kevin would raise his eyebrows and Charlie would poke him in the side to watch him squirm.  

After a while, Castiel's heart stopped doing the lambada every time Dean was in a thirty foot radius. This was mostly because of Dean's girlfriends, and the fact that there were a lot of them. They pretty much all looked the same to Castiel: big hair, big boobs, tiny waist, tinier clothing. Dean was always pressing them up against lockers and kissing their necks, or fogging up the windows of his dad's Impala in the school parking lot. It seemed like Dean broke a heart a week and Castiel hated that cold, slimy feeling that would settle in his stomach every time he saw Dean with his hands up a girl's shirt. Living next door to the guy certainly didn't make it any better. That simply meant that Castiel was treated to an eyeful 24 hours a day.  

To make matters worse, the fighting over at the Winchester house had reached critical volume. Castiel's father was complaining to his mother and threatening to call the cops by the time the shouting finally petered out. Castiel did his best to put it out of his mind, but when he went to take the trash out after dinner after one particularly loud row, he saw Dean sitting in that big black Impala, his head hung low and his face in his hands.  

Castiel wanted to ignore it, to just drop the trash in the bin and pretend he never saw Dean, to hide in plain sight. But he didn't do that. He approached the car quietly and tapped on the driver-side window. Dean's head snapped up and Castiel could see that his eyes were red and his face was blotchy. Dean rolled down the window. 

"Hey Cas," he said thickly.  

"Hi. Are you okay?"  

Dean cleared his throat and nodded at Castiel. "Yeah, man. I'm fine. I'm sorry about the noise. Tell your folks I'm sorry, yeah?"  

Castiel decided he was going to do something stupid.  

He sighed and walked around to the passenger side of the Impala and slid into the seat next to Dean. Dean turned to him in surprise and Castiel saw the purpling bruise developing on Dean's right cheekbone. Although he wasn't sure why, Castiel reached out as if to touch it, but something dangerous flashed in Dean's eyes and Castiel flinched away. He folded his hands in his lap and twisted his fingers together to prevent them from making any more foolish moves.  

"What happened?" Castiel asked, not looking at Dean.  

He heard Dean sigh and slump into his seat. "It's just my dad, man. He's a real dick when he drinks. Says things, you know."  

"What kind of things?" Castiel ventured.  

"Oh, the usual. The whole 'you're useless and an idiot and you'll never amount to anything' shtick." 

Castiel just nodded and Dean was quiet for a little while.  

"He wasn't always like this, with the drinking and fighting and shit. He used to be a really awesome dad. He would take me fishing and we'd go down to the diner for pancakes and bacon on Sundays. He even came to my little league games." Dean kept his eyes forward but he had a wistful, far away look on his face. "But then when mom died, he kinda fell apart. Sammy was just a baby, so he doesn't really remember dad any other way. Doesn't even remember mom. But, yeah. Sorry. I should shut my fat mouth, I don't know why I'm telling you this."  

Castiel frowned. "I'm a pretty good listener." 

Dean laughed mirthfully. "Yeah, I guess I believe that. I dunno, man. Do you ever feel like you're just lying to everyone around you? That you're pretending to be someone just for the sake of everyone else?"  

"Sometimes, I suppose. I guess I'm not very good at pretending to be anybody I'm not. Call it a weakness, most people do, but I'm just...this." 

Dean leaned forward and folded his arms over the steering wheel, turning his gaze to Castiel. There was a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, that's true isn't it. I think I envy you." 

Castiel snorted and rolled his eyes. "Dean, I highly doubt you want people to start calling you 'geek' and 'loser' and 'faggot' any time soon, but I understand the sentiment."  

"But that's just it, it doesn't matter what people say about you. You're going somewhere. People like you and like Sammy, you're going to make something of yourselves, do something big and important and then it won't matter what those dickheads said about you. But me, I'll be stuck here my whole fucking life, looking after dad or working on junk cars for minimum wage." 

"You think very little of yourself, Dean."  

"I'm just being realistic." 

"I don't agree," Castiel said turning to Dean. "I'll admit, sometimes you act like a bit of an ass at school. You're crude and loud and I could really do without the excessive PDA." Dean huffed a little but rewarded Castiel with another small smile. "But you're different at home. You'd do anything for your brother and even a blind man could see how much you love and respect him. You care for your father even though he says cruel things," Castiel hesitated. "Even though he hurts you." Dean's eyes darkened and slipped away from him, but Castiel persisted. "Maybe you _are_ lying about who you are, hiding behind some tough guy bullshit at school, but I can't figure out why. I've watched the way you are around the people you care about and I can tell that you're a good person with a good heart. I don't know why you won't let people see it." 

A lovely flush crept up Dean's cheeks and Castiel couldn't help the tiny surge of pride in himself. He had told Dean the truth and maybe revealed a bit too much of his feelings, but it needed to be said.  

Dean chewed his lip to stifle a smile and Castiel tried not to let it distract him, tried to keep his eyes firmly on Dean's and not dip any lower. "Thanks, Cas. Been watching me a lot then?" 

Castiel was pretty sure Dean was teasing him and he silently cursed himself for his word choice. But they he thought, hey, in for a dime in for a dollar. "Maybe."  

Dean arched one eyebrow and his smile widened slightly. _Oh_ , Castiel thought. _This is dangerous territory_.  

"Is that so?" 

"I said maybe," Castiel retorted lamely.  

"Uh huh. So what if I were to say that maybe I've been watching you too?" 

Now Dean was definitely teasing him, Castiel was sure of it. "I'd say you're full of it." 

Dean pretended to looked scandalized. "Who, me?" 

Castiel scoffed audibly, but couldn't wrestle the smile that was spreading across his face into submission. He liked when Dean teased him, when he could make Dean laugh and catch a glimpse of that radiant smile that had him so enraptured. Castiel might have misconstrued it as flirting if he didn't know that Dean talked this way with everyone. Castiel knew that ninety percent of the time Dean was talking, he was flirting. Of course, if he wasn't flirting, he was yelling and Castiel preferred the former.  

"I _have_ watched you though," Dean continued and Castiel felt his chest grow tight. "All summer you'd sit in that chair over there behind the bush and read your book. For Christ sakes Cas, you were wearing black slacks in ninety degree weather!" 

Castiel crossed his arms across his chest grumbled. "They're a cotton blend. Designed for summer." 

Dean laughed and the clear, bright sound of it made his chest constrict even further. "You didn't even sweat. You just sat there looking all composed and perfect and then when I'd finally say something to you, you'd do something ridiculous and adorable, like fall over or drop something. I thought, for a little while, that maybe _I_ was making you nervous."  

_Shit_ , he'd been found out. Dean could see right through him, it was so obvious. And yet, lest his ears deceive him, Dean Winchester had just called him adorable. And also perfect. 

"But you don't seem very nervous now," Dean said and then he smiled, ducking his head slightly to catch Castiel's shifty gaze. "What's the matter, Cas? Don't you like me anymore?" 

Castiel nearly burst in nervous laughter. If Dean thought he wasn't near paralyzed with fear right now then Castiel must be a better actor than he originally thought, because it felt like he might shake right out of his skin with nerves. Continued exposure was doing nothing to calm him.  

"Like it isn't obvious," Castiel blurted. And, _oh shit._ He had said that out loud. It was too late to catch the words and shove them back in, but it didn't stop Castiel's hands from flying up to cover his treacherous mouth. 

And there it was. The smile. The big one. The one that took over Dean's whole face and made Castiel turn to jello at his feet every damn time. Castiel wanted to taste it so badly but the mush that now made up his brain prevented him from trying and probably humiliating himself. Castiel thanked the lord for small miracles.  

"Uh huh, so you do like me then?" Dean asked, but Castiel was still too blinded by the grin that was pointed in his direction to respond like a normal human.  

"I - uh, I mean - yes, Dean. You are very...nice." Jesus Christ, Castiel had really outdone himself this time. He couldn't recall any time in history he had been so horribly tongue tied. Dean was doing that charming, flirtatious thing he did that Castiel had long since coveted but now that it was directed at him he could barely string a sentence together. Castiel considered himself to be a generally eloquent individual. Even witty, at times. That was, until he meant Dean Winchester and promptly forgot how to speak English.  

"You're pretty bad at this, huh Cas?" Dean said, teasing gently.  

Castiel shrugged with a grimace. There was no need for Dean to clarify. "Not usually." 

But Dean was still smiling and his eyes seemed just a little brighter. "That's cool. Talking's overrated, anyways." 

And then Dean was kissing him and Castiel froze. Dean's mouth was soft on his and when Dean's tongue darted out to run the seam of his lips something in Castiel's brain shuttered back online. Dean Winchester was kissing him in the front seat of the Impala. Pretty much every fantasy Castiel had about his neighbor from the day he moved in started just like this. He'd be damned if he let a lifetime of masturbatory material like this pass him by. So he kissed Dean back with everything he had.  

Castiel felt more than he heard the hitch in Dean's breath when he returned the kiss, parting his lips beneath Dean's, tasting him with teasing little flicks of his tongue. He pushed his fingers into Dean's short sandy hair and _oh yes,_ it was as soft as he had imagined. 

Dean was a masterful kisser, although Castiel could hardly be surprised. He had been witness to an awful lot of practice. But now that the attention was turned to him, Castiel wasn't going to complain. The pressure of Deans mouth alternated between soft, chaste little kisses that had Castiel chasing his lips that morphed into passionate, consuming ones that took his breath away and sent electric shots of desire through him like lightning bolts.  

Pressed up against him, Castiel could really smell Dean now and sweet Jesus he smelled _good,_ like a combination of warm, honey-sweet amber, the sharpness of motor oil and the deep, delicious musk of arousal. It was completely intoxicating and Castiel was dizzy with it. He couldn't get enough.  

Castiel dragged himself closer, pressing himself against the hard line of Dean's chest as Dean ran his hands down Castiel's sides and settled at his hips, twisting his fingers in the belt loops. The kiss grew heated and their mouths opened readily against each other, tongues tangling hot and desperate between them. Castiel shifted and threw a knee over Dean's hip, straddling him and pressing him back against the headrest with mouths still joined. Castiel ran eager fingers over Dean's chest, tangling them in the fabric of his t-shirt.  

Dean worked his hands under Castiel's sweater and dragged strong hands across his naked back, causing a shiver and goosebumps to rise under Dean's fingertips. It was almost too much. Castiel's skin felt like it was on fire and his breaths were coming in little gasps against Dean's open mouth. He couldn't help himself as he canted his hips against Dean's, feeling the hardness in Dean's jeans against his own as the heat that burned low in Castiel's belly turned molten. Dean growled low and predatory and his hands flew to Castiel's ass, pulling him even closer. 

"Christ, Cas," Dean sighed brokenly as Castiel pressed kisses along Dean's lightly stubbled jawline. He ran his tongue along the shell of Dean's ear before pulling his earlobe between his teeth and biting softly. Castiel felt the hands at his hips grip tighter as Castiel feathered filthy little kisses down Dean's throat. He sucked at the sweet spot at the base of Dean's neck until he heard a gasp in his ear and the body beneath him grow taut. He laved the area with hot presses of his tongue and lips and Dean melted back into him. Their hips undulating slightly, carefully seeking that delicious friction.  

Dean threaded a hand through Castiel's dark hair and gently pulled him back to his lips. Dean kissed him hungrily, his tongue practiced and punishing and so unbelievably _hot_. Castiel caught Dean's plush lower lip between his teeth and Dean hissed, grinding his hips up hard against Castiel's throbbing erection. 

The liquid heat at the base of Castiel's spine was spreading, consuming him, as he circled his hips against Dean's, their mouths a messy press of lips and tongues between gasps and moans. 

" _Dean,"_ Castiel groaned against Dean's mouth, tearing at the buttons of his shirt. "Want you."  

Dean moaned his reciprocation and ran firm hands up Castiel's thighs along the seams of his pants and then settling at the joint of his hip. A wanton little noise escaped Castiel's lips. Dean's hands were so tantalizingly close to touching him and he positively _ached_ for it. Dean must have sensed his desperation because he ran his fingers lightly over the bulge in Castiel pants. The touch was too light and not enough but Castiel found himself crying out anyway. _God_ , he absolutely _burned_ for this. He had wanted Dean so badly he'd nearly been sick with it and now Dean was touching him, his brilliant green eyes gone dark and hooded with lust as Castiel writhed against him shamelessly.  

Dean ran his hand over Castiel's erection again, firmer and Castiel keened loudly, canting his hips and chasing the pressure. "Please," he gasped. " _Please,_ touch me. I need -" 

"Don't worry, baby. I know what you need." Dean fumbled with the button on Castiel's jeans. The button finally gave way and Castiel sighed as Dean pulled him from his pants.  

But just as Dean was about to wrap his fingers around Castiel's cock, a door slammed behind them.  

"Fuck," Dean cursed and Castiel practically leapt out of his lap. John Winchester was walking toward the car with an unsteady gait and rage burning behind his dark eyes. Castiel's arousal withered inside him and was replaced by cold pool of dread. Dean hastily adjusted his clothes and ran fingers through his hair to fix the mess Castiel had made of it.  

Castiel managed to tuck himself back into his pants and button up before John Winchester was pounding on the drivers side window. Castiel shot Dean a terrified look as his heart lodged itself firmly in his throat but Dean's returning gaze was steady. He took a deep breath and said, "Go home, Cas. Just go inside and lock the door. I'll handle this."  

Cas wanted to protest, but Dean gave him a sharp look and instead he just nodded.  

"Trust me," Dean said as he unlocked the doors. 

John dragged Dean from the front seat by his collar hollering obscenities that Castiel tried not to hear. Castiel wasn't entirely sure if John had seen what they were doing, but he didn't have a chance to find out. Dean and his father were grappling against each other, stumbling back toward the house until Dean got the upper hand and dragged his father through the doorway, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Castiel walked back into his own house, his veins pumped full of adrenaline and his mind foggy with fear and lust. 

"Fall into the trashcan there, Cassie?" Gabriel quipped from the living room couch as he flipped between channels on the television set.  

"What?" Castiel responded, blankly.  

Gabriel turned a questioning eye to his brother. "It doesn't usually take over a half an hour to take the trash to the curb. Were you lost?"  

"Um, no. I'm-" Casitel faltered. "I'm going to bed." 

Castiel turned and headed for the stairs. Gabriel looked like he made to follow him, but the haunted look on Castiel's face made him hesitate.  

Castiel slept fitfully that night, constantly worrying about Dean and praying desperately that he was safe.  

Castiel didn't see Dean the following day or even the next. By the end of the week there was a moving van parked outside the Winchester house. Castiel didn't see Dean or Sam around anymore after that.  


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh my god, Cas, that smells so effing good," Charlie exclaimed, wafting the steam from Cas’ freshly-made apple pie to her face. "Although why you brought homemade apple pie to a kegger, I do not understand." 

He shrugged. "Do people not eat pie nowadays?" 

"Nowadays? Who are you, Thomas Jefferson? Duh, people eat pie. But normal people bring like, chips and dip or a veggie platter from Costco or something to a party. Not homemade fucking _pie_." 

He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "A veggie platter? Really, Charlie? Do I seem like the type of guy to bring you a Costco veggie platter on your birthday? How long have you known me?" 

"And that's why I love you," she said with a smirk. "But lose the tie, Poindexter. This ain't no Columbia party. Check musty books and leather satchels at the door." 

Cas rolled his eyes but loosened his tie anyway. He had missed Charlie. They kept in touch through their undergraduate years while Charlie was at MIT and Cas was a country away doing pre-law in at Berkeley. Cas had completed his requirements a year ahead of schedule (which was practically unheard of and came at the cost of any sort of social life) and earned himself a place at Columbia Law. New York was a lonely place at first and he missed his friends from Lawrence. Cas tried to make the best of it, to see it as a fresh start. He shortened his name (which made introducing himself significantly less tiresome), went on some dates, tried to pick up some new hobbies, learned conversational French. But after Charlie graduated, she landed a swanky job at a tech startup based out of Brooklyn and Cas had his best friend back. 

Charlie's flat was seriously enviable. Cas pretty much lived at the university library, but when he required sleep, he had a shitty little studio apartment in the bad part of town. It was less of a home and more of a crash pad, but until he was making what Charlie referred to as "fat lawyer stacks," Cas was on a pretty tight budget. Charlie, on the other hand, lived in very cool warehouse in Brooklyn that she shared with a couple of obnoxious wannabe artists from NYU who could afford the exorbitant rent with their parents' trust funds. But Cas had to admit, it was an incredible place to throw a party, if that was your sort of thing. 

Cas tucked his tie into one of his pockets and stashed the pie in the fridge for safekeeping. He had made it from scratch and didn't want any drunken freeloaders dipping into Charlie's birthday cake substitute. 

People started arriving around eight o'clock. Cas didn't really know anybody save for a few acquaintances, but Charlie made sure to introduce him to all of her friends. They were all nice enough, but they spent most of their time talking about computers and web design and hacking techniques and Cas found his mind wandering. 

Kevin came directly from the airport having flown in from Philly for the occasion and Cas was more than a little relieved to see him. They still talked regularly enough for Cas to know that Kevin hated his job working as a software designer for a large corporation. Upon arrival, Kevin stayed firmly planted at the bar, ranting to Cas about his boss. By the time Cas extracted himself from his friend, he was already a little bit drunk. 

He was trying to make his way to the restroom when Charlie caught him by the arm. 

 "Having any fun?" she asked. 

"Yeah, loads. Kev is wasted and torturing your party guests with his depressing stories." 

"Shit. Well, can't say the guy doesn't deserve a break." 

Cas shrugged and made to pull away but Charlie gasped and tightened her grip around his forearm. 

"Oh my god, pinch me, I think I'm hallucinating. Did you put something in my drink?" 

Cas tried to follow Charlie's line of sight, but couldn't pinpoint the cause of her excitement. "I would never do that. What are you talking about?" 

"Remember that ridiculously hot new barista at the coffee shop by my office that I told you about?" Charlie asked, her eyes wide. 

Honestly, Cas could hardly keep track of Charlie's constantly rotating list of crushes. One day she'd be waxing poetic about the _amazing_ new shampoo girl at the salon she went to and the next day she would be claiming she had discovered the love of her life was the yoga instructor with the blonde ponytail and the well-filled sports bra. 

"I invited her but I never thought she'd come. I'm ninety-nine percent sure she's straight because she did ask if she could bring her idiot boyfriend, but that's not totally definitive is it?" Charlie said, her words coming a mile a minute. 

"I'd say that's fairly definitive. But good luck with that anyway," Cas said. 

"Whatever. You don't know what you're talking about. I'm going to go talk to her. Hey, Lisa!" Charlie said with a toss of her fiery hair as she went bounding towards a pretty brunette in a white sundress. 

Cas sighed and snagged a fresh beer, drained half of it and headed toward the bathrooms. But when he passed by the kitchen he saw his pie sitting on the counter and the fridge door swung wide open. Cas moved to close the door but then realized there was someone behind it, digging around the refrigerator. And that someone had a _very_ nice ass. He considered scolding the rude guest but Cas was just this side of drunk and he just _had_ to find out if the front of this stranger was as pretty as the back. 

"You know," Cas started, sidling up to the stranger and letting his voice drop an octave in a way he'd been told was appealing. "We prosecute pie thieves to the full extent of the law around here. I would know, I'm a law-" but that was as far as he got because the stranger straightened up and Cas was staring straight into _those_ green eyes, the ones that he'd never quite been able to put out of his mind. 

"Dean?" Cas stammered. 

Dean winced and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, hey Cas." 

Dean's cheeks flushed pink and Cas was transported right back to high school when his legs turned to jelly and his brain to mush like nothing had ever changed. Because holy shit, he looked _good_. Cas about the same height as Dean now, but Dean was broader, stronger. His hair was the same sandy blonde and the bridge of his nose was still peppered with freckles, but he had definitely grown up. His jaw was sharp, strong and ruggedly masculine but then there was that pretty mouth that Cas had thought about one too many times when he was alone in the dark. 

"What- what are you doing here?" Cas managed to ask. 

Dean gave Cas a sheepish smile. "My - uh - my girlfriend met Charlie at her work. She works at a coffee shop by Charlie's job, I guess. They're friends, or whatever, and Charlie invited her to her birthday. Didn't realize it was the Charlie I went to high school with, I mean, what are the odds, huh?" 

Then realization hit him. _Lisa_. Oh god, the barista Charlie was fawning all over was _Dean Winchester's girlfriend_. A funny little laugh strangled out of Cas. It sounded far more hysterical than he would have preferred, but he was still reeling from the shock. 

"I didn't know you'd be here," Dean said hurriedly, by way of an explanation. His face flushed crimson. "I mean, I might have seen you earlier tonight with Charlie, but I didn't know you'd be here, like, at the party. When I said I would come." 

Cas wasn't sure if he should feel stung by that, the implication that Dean might not have come if he had known Cas would be in attendance. Which was ridiculous, he realized, because he hadn’t seen Dean in nearly ten years and there was absolutely no reason Dean would want to see him. 

"So, what are you doing in New York?" Dean ventured. 

Cas shook his head to clear it and ran a hand through his hair. "I'm in my second year at Columbia Law." 

The corner of Dean's lips quirked up. "So you weren't joking when you said you'd prosecute me over the pie." 

Cas tried to squash down his amusement. The proper thing to do would be to ask Dean about his career or his family, he was curious, after all. And yet, there was that same old Dean Winchester charm that had Cas making a fool of himself trying to think of something clever to say. Cas fixed him with what he hoped was his most flirtatious smirk and said, "Mr. Winchester, I never joke about pie." 

Cas watched as Dean's eyes darkened and flicked down to his mouth. Cas tried to stifle the frisson of unadulterated glee at Dean's reaction, but failed and was sure Dean saw it in his expression clear as day. 

"Neither do I. So, what do you say, Novak?" Dean asked, holding a fork in Cas’ direction. "Wanna be bad with me?" Dean winked. 

And sweet Christ there it was again, that damn wink. Cas was a dead man walking and he knew it. Totally and completed screwed. He was just another one of Dean Winchester's lucky victims. 

But since Cas was done for anyway, he took the fork from Dean, gestured toward the kitchen table and said with a smile, "Always." 

Dean sat across from him at the table with the pie between them. 

"You know," Cas said. "I don't think Charlie is going to appreciate us eating her birthday pie." 

"Birthday pie? That’s not a thing. And we're not going to eat _all_ of it," Dean said petulantly. "If there is a pie in the house, it is my duty as an American to make sure it is not poisoned." 

"How noble of you," Cas retorted. 

"Anything for the good of the people. And besides, I'm pretty sure Charlie has had plenty of sugar judging by her energy level." 

"She's always like that," Cas said, trying not to watch too closely and for god sake _breathe_ _normally_ as Dean put a forkful of pie in his mouth and ran his tongue across the tines of the fork. 

Cas was filling his own fork with the perfectly buttery flaky crust and sweet, caramel-colored apples, if he did say so himself, when Dean stilled abruptly. 

"Oh shit," Dean mumbled and then swallowed his mouthful of pie. "Oh _shit_." 

"Is something wrong?" 

"That. That right there is fucking _beautiful._ Oh my god, I'm in love. I think I'm going to marry this pie and give it everything it's ever wanted." Dean took another heaping forkful of the dessert and held it in front of his face. "I'm going to be so good to you, baby," he said to the pie. 

Cas blushed profusely and cleared his throat. "I'm pretty sure that isn't legal in the state of New York. But thank you anyway." 

"Um, Cas, I was talking to the pie. We're having a moment here." 

At that Cas laughed out loud, he couldn't help himself. "Well, I guess I just want some of the credit for bringing you two together." 

"No way, man," Dean countered, his eyes sparkling with mirth and setting off fireworks in Cas’ stomach. "The pie and I had a thing before you even walked in here with your threats of prosecution _,"_ he said and took another bite of pie. 

"I just figured since I made the pie and all..." Cas said, gesturing with his fork noncommittally. 

Dean's fork clattered onto his plate and he shoved his chair roughly back from the table, his eyes wide and on Cas. "Get the fuck out." 

Cas shrugged. 

"You made this?" Dean pointed accusingly at the pie. 

"I did." 

Dean whistled low and leaned back into his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head at Cas. 

"Well," he said. "That changes things." And he smiled. 

And that was it. That was the one thing Cas never even pretended to try and forget. He had searched for that exact straight-toothed, eye-crinkling grin on the face of every guy he ever pulled. Of course, on anyone else's face, no matter how lovely (and there were some very lovely ones), it was just a second rate imitation. It wasn't this particular face wearing the perfect smile, until now. It was his greatest weakness and in that moment when he finally saw the real thing in person, Castiel _wanted._  

The silence and the tension hung heavy in the air while they just stared at each other. There was no doubt in Cas' mind that Dean had just read him like a book. Dean must have seen the way his eyes dilated, the hitch in his breathing or the unconscious darting of his tongue across his lips. Neither of them made any further move, they just appraised each other silently for a few loaded moments. 

Then it was gone. Dean rose to his feet and announced, "I need another beer. And to ah-" he faltered and gestured to nothing in particular. He was probably going to find Lisa, Cas figured. "It was good to see you, Cas." 

As soon as he left the room Cas let his head fall to the table with a thud.  

___________________ 

   

"Wait, wait, wait. You're saying Dean Winchester - as in _Dean Winchester_ \- is here at this party? At this very moment?" Charlie's voice was escalating and it was making an already wary Castiel extra jumpy. 

"Can you keep your voice down, please? And yes. Dean Winchester is here. He came with your new girlfriend. Or, I guess it's his girlfriend, isn't it? Lisa," Cas said, his eyes still scanning the room for another glimpse of Dean. 

They had been skirting each other all evening. Or at least, Cas was skirting Dean. What Cas was really doing was probably something closer to flat out hiding from Dean, but he wasn't quite ready to admit that to himself. 

He had spent the last couple hours trying to keep Kevin from blacking out while intermittently chatting with some random acquaintances that Cas had met through Charlie. It was, all in all, a very enjoyable evening. Cas was pleasantly drunk and would have felt a little bit loose were it not for the constant threat of bumping into the star all his teenage masturbation fantasies. 

"As in Dean Winchester of the infamous Blue Balls Incident of sophomore year?" Charlie persisted. 

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't call it that anymore!" 

"You agreed," Charlie muttered. "I guess that's what I get for inviting pretty straight girls like Lisa to my party." 

"What, they bring their even prettier not-so-straight boyfriends to torture your best friend?" Cas retorted. 

"Yep, pretty much." 

"Whatever." Cas heaved a sigh. "I'm going to the bathroom." 

"Again?" 

"Yes, Charlie. I never did go last time. Ol' blue balls Winchester intercepted me, remember? And anyway, that was like," he paused, counting on his fingers. "Two hours ago." 

Okay, definitely drunk then. Charlie giggled as Cas headed for the bathroom. To his dismay, the line for the toilet was about ten people deep and worst of all, the last person in line was Dean. 

Dean was chatting and flashing his high-beam smile at the young blonde woman with too much makeup and way too much cleavage in line in front of him. When Cas stepped in line behind him, Dean did a double take and his smile shifted to something significantly more dangerous as he turned to Cas. 

"Fancy meeting you here," Dean said. 

The girl he had been talking to caught Cas’ eye and huffed her annoyance and he couldn't help but feel a little smug. 

"Yeah, fancy," Cas snorted. 

Cas bounced on his heels impatiently. The line was taking too long and he couldn't stand next to Dean for another ten minutes without either making a complete idiot of himself of having an aneurysm. The full bladder wasn’t helping either. 

"Doing okay there, pal?" Dean asked with a snide smile. 

"This is ridiculous," Cas snarled. "This line is taking forever." 

"Don't think we have a choice." 

Cas rolled his eyes. "I know one of Charlie's roommates has an ensuite bathroom. But she's too selfish to share and locks the door to her room." 

Dean cocked his head at Cas and gave him an amused look. "I could probably do something about that." 

"I'm pretty sure she's always been selfish. Her parents probably spoiled her. I think it's out of your hands." 

Dean threw back his head and laughed. "No Cas, I mean I can do something about the locked door. Lead the way?" 

Cas gave Dean a conspiratorial smile, a nod and tapped the side of nose with his index finger. Dean laughed again and Cas felt something tugging inside his chest. That was definitely a sound he wouldn't mind hearing again. 

He led Dean down a dimly lit hall to Charlie's roommate's bedroom. There was a steel door knob with a modern lock, but Dean seemed unfazed. He pulled a couple of long metal pins from his wallet and began fiddling with the keyhole. 

"Break and enter often?" Cas asked skeptically. 

"Maybe," Dean said with a smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows. "But no, not really. My dad locks himself out of his apartment about once a week and I got sick of giving all my money to the locksmith. I figured out how to jimmy the lock myself." 

"You know you can just have extra keys made, right? It's a rather simple process." 

"Yeah, I do, smartass. Old man wouldn't agree to it. Said it was a 'violation of his privacy.' I'm not saying it's logical. It's just a hell of a lot easier than a fight." 

Cas had a few thoughts about that as well as few choice opinions about the elder Winchester, but he didn't voice them to Dean. Although Cas was disappointed that Dean was still trailing after John Winchester and cleaning up his messes, he supposed he wasn't surprised. Dean was fiercely loyal, almost certainly to a fault. 

Any further thoughts Cas had were quickly forgotten when the lock clicked open under Dean's hand. Dean smiled triumphantly and bowed to Cas. "After you." 

"Oh thank Christ," Cas said pushing past Dean and into the little bathroom at the back of room. 

Cas relieved himself and then turned to his reflection in the dirty mirror over the sink. He was flushed, that much was for sure. The crests of his cheeks were tinged pink from drink and his usually sharp, blue eyes were looking a little glassy. His hair was a lost cause, as usual, and was spiking up in every direction. Cas tried to smooth and flatten the unruly strands but it was no use. He caught himself before he primped any further. It didn't matter what he looked like, things with Dean weren't going anywhere. 

When Cas stepped out of the bathroom, Dean was standing in the center of the room with his arms crossed over his chest as he appraised his surroundings. 

"This is just about the ugliest room I've ever seen," Dean said with a snort. 

He wasn't kidding. The walls were lined with dingy looking tapestries and yellowing posters from electronic music concerts. The air was definitely stale and smelled faintly of nag champa and weed. The bed was nothing more than a mattress on the floor covered in a nest of downy blankets and flat pillows. 

"It does appear to be a bit of a dump. Which is unfortunate, especially since I know she pays a fortune to live here," Cas said with a shrug. "Bathroom's all yours." 

"Nah, never had to go," he said, glancing around the room before settling his gaze on Cas. "Mostly just got in line to chat up that blonde chick. But then you came along and I got distracted." 

Dean dropped his arms to his sides and took a step closer. Cas swallowed hard. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was just the proximity to Dean, but he was about to do it again. He was about to do something very stupid over Dean Winchester. He was going to regret this in the morning, there was no doubt about it. 

"You know, this really is a shitty room," he said, pinning Dean with a heavy stare and licking his lips a little too slowly. "We should probably mess it up." 

Dean's face split into a wolfish grin. "Thought you'd never ask." 

Dean was on him in two strides, crowding Cas against the wall and kissing him like a starving man. It felt incredible. Dean's mouth was soft and warm and pliant beneath Cas’ lips and tongue. Cas was too far-gone to bother with petty things like shame and embarrassment and moaned wantonly against Dean's parted lips. He felt Dean smile into the kiss and flick his tongue over Cas bottom lip. 

Cas definitely remembered what it was like to kiss Dean. The first time had been frantic; a desperate battle of tongue and teeth leading them fumbling and rutting against each other, drunk on teenage lust. It had been delicious and intoxicating, although it was cut short. But this time was different. This was ten years of unrequited desire for Cas. This time, he was going to get what was his so he could move on and forget about Dean. This wasn't just about sex or unfinished business, this was closure. And Cas was hungry for it. 

Dean was dropping hot, open-mouthed kisses along Cas’ throat while his fingers slipped his shirt buttons through their holes one at a time at an agonizingly slow pace until Cas had had enough. He yanked the shirt open, sending buttons pinging onto the floor. Dean growled his approval from the hollow of Cas’ throat before ridding him of the shirt entirely and running his hands over the pale expanse of Cas' chest. Dean’s fingers burned into his skin like a brand, leaving lingering trails of heat behind as he mapped the smooth, flat planes of Cas stomach. 

"Fucking gorgeous," Dean muttered as he nipped along Cas' collarbone and sunk his teeth into his shoulder. 

Cas yelped as the hot burst of pain ignited the desire churning in his gut. He needed to feel the heat of Dean's skin against his own, to taste him and feel the bone and muscle move beneath his tongue, but there was altogether too much clothing between them. Dean had not lost his penchant for excessive layering and there was currently a henley, a t-shirt and an over shirt between Cas and his goal. 

"Take these off," Cas said, tugging limply at the hem of Dean's shirt. "All of them. It's too much. Really Dean, did you need to wear so many shirts? Most people find one sufficient." 

Dean smirked and pulled them all off in one go, yanking them over his head and mussing his hair in a way that Cas found devastatingly attractive. Dean's bare chest was golden tan and lightly muscled, with just the right amount of softness around his belly. Cas wanted to bury his face in that trail of hair below Dean's belly button. He'd been dreaming about what that would taste like and what kind of noise Dean would make since he was fifteen. Apparently Dean was following Cas’ same train of thought because he hooked his index finger into the front of Cas’ slacks and popped the button open with a deft flick of his thumb. Cas let his head fall back against the wall with a _thunk_ as Dean yanked down Cas' fly and pushed his pants and briefs over his hips and ass, his hands lingering over the jut of his pelvic bone. Cas shimmied the rest of the way out of his pants and kicked off his shoes.  

Dean was looking at him hungrily and his teeth skimmed across that plump bottom lip. Cas leaned forward to taste it and Dean hummed with pleasure. He gripped Cas firmly by the hips and spun him around and away from the wall. He gave him a gentle shove and Cas fell back obediently until his feet hit the corner of the mattress. He sunk into the heap of blankets and Dean followed him down, settling between Cas’ thighs and ghosting his lips over Cas' throat. 

Maybe in his fantasies, Castiel had imagined being more in control of this situation. He wanted to take Dean apart, to hear him pant his name and rub against him, hot and needy. But now that he was here, Cas was more than happy to hand the reins to Dean, who was currently smoothing reverent hands over Cas' skin again and following them with his mouth. 

"I've wanted to do this for so long," Dean murmured against one of Cas' nipples, as it pebbled beneath his lips. "You have no idea." 

"Oh trust me, I do," Cas said, his voice catching on the last word as Dean rolled the nipple between his teeth gently and then soothed it with a hot press of his tongue. 

Dean's kisses trailed lower, skittering across Cas' abdomen and over his bellybutton and then skipping over his straining erection to the soft inside of his thigh. Cas could feel Dean's hot breath over the sensitive flesh and it made him shiver. Dean hummed his approval and flicked his tongue teasingly over the tip of Cas' cock. 

Cas gasped, fisting the sheets underneath his hands. Dean took the head of his cock, flushed and leaking, between his lips as he wrapped his hand around the shaft, swirling his tongue over the slit. 

Dean hummed again. "Always knew you'd taste good." 

"Fuck, _Dean,"_ Cas moaned brokenly. He wanted to press himself against those teasing lips, to fuck into Dean's mouth but Dean pinned him down with a punishing grip on his hips. 

"Be still, baby," he soothed. "We're just getting started. I'm going to suck you so good and slow you're going to be begging me to let come." 

Something akin to a sob escaped Cas’ lips as Dean swallowed him down, circling his tongue tantalizingly around his cock and pulling back with just the slightest hint of suction. The sensation was delicious and devastating and Cas cursed and gasped with each bob of Dean's head. But it wasn't enough. The touch was just a little too light and a little too slow, although Cas could feel the familiar heat of his desire pooling at the base of his spine. 

Dean's left hand smoothed over Cas' balls to knead against his perineum while he tightened the grip of his right around Cas' shaft, following the drag of his lips and tongue with his fist. Stars exploded in front of Cas' vision he couldn’t hold back the rocking of his hips against Dean's mouth. 

Dean carried on this way for what seemed like forever. Cas was absolutely aching with need and embarrassing little mewls and gasps were pouring from his lips now. Dean's mouth was so hot and tight around him but he needed more. He needed friction and he needed it badly. Dean seemed to sense his urgency but maintained his torturous rhythm as he kept Cas teetering on the brink. 

"Jesus fuck, Dean," he whimpered. "I need- please, Dean. I can't -" he gasped brokenly as Dean flicked his tongue over the slit again, rendering Cas momentarily incoherent. "I can't stand it anymore. _Please_." 

He saw a flash of triumph in Dean's eyes before Cas screwed his eyes shut and Dean pushed Cas' knees over his shoulders, swallowing him all the way down to the base. He increased his speed and tightened the ring of his lips around Cas and it was finally enough. He could feel his orgasm coiling inside him, that aching, burning need leaving him writhing and sweating beneath Dean. 

"Dean, oh god. Fuck, _fuck._ I'm gonna-" That was all the warning Cas could manage before his vision bleached white and there was no sound but the ringing in his ears. His orgasm was wrenched from him and left him trembling as Dean swallowed it all down, soothing him through the aftershocks with a gentle grip. 

When Cas regained some semblance of brain function and finally peeled open his eyes, Dean had released him, but was still kneeling between Cas' thighs. He still had his jeans on but the fly was open and he had his cock in his hand, thrusting into his fist and moaning Castiel's name like a prayer. It was the most unbelievably erotic thing Cas had ever seen. Dean was so hard and desperate just from watching him come and tasting his pleasure. 

Dean growled when Cas replaced his hand with his own and with only a few rough strokes, Dean was coming with a shout and painting hot, pearly stripes across Cas’ chest. 

Dean collapsed next to him and Cas wiped the quickly cooling semen from his chest with the nearest piece of fabric he could find (he was pretty sure it was a pillowcase but couldn't be bothered to care). When Cas turned to him, Dean was smiling a big crinkly-eyed grin and Cas' stomach did that ridiculous swooping thing again, like the moment you drop over the crest of the of the hill on a roller coaster. Dean leaned over and ran a hand through Cas’ hair and laved him with wet, open-mouthed kisses that made his toes curl. 

"Holy shit, that was hot," Dean murmured against Cas’ mouth. Cas just nodded, not trusting his voice. 

Dean's warm weight on top of him along with his sweet, satiated kisses yanked on the little cord of longing behind Cas’ heart. To his utter embarrassment, he didn't want Dean to go. He wanted to wrap his arms around him and fall asleep with his nose buried in the pulse point at the base of his neck to relish in that comforting scent of amber and motor oil and _Dean._ If Cas had thought himself to be utterly lost before he had sex with Dean and came trembling beneath his strong hands, well Cas was well and truly ruined now. He only hoped that the closure he anticipated would follow closely on the tails of this desperate longing for _more._  

But Dean wasn't his and Cas knew that. To his utter horror, he remembered that not only was Dean not his, but he belonged to someone else. And that someone else was right outside, enjoying the party and making small talk with Cas’ friends. This sinking realization cooled his passion and he slipped out from underneath Dean to gather his discarded clothing. 

"I better get back," he muttered to the floor as he stepped into his pants and attempted feebly to fasten enough of the surviving buttons to keep his shirt on. 

Dean frowned. "Just like that, huh? Love 'em and leave 'em. Didn't expect that to be your style, Cas." 

"You don't really know anything about me, Dean," Cas said with a resigned sigh and gave up trying to make his shirt look presentable. 

"No, I guess I don't. And I s'pose you don't really know much about me." 

Annoyance flared in Cas’ gut. "Yeah? Well you know what I do know? I know you have a _girlfriend_ , Dean. And you left her out there on her own while you came back here and fucked around with some guy you went to high school with." 

Dean's face steeled and his eyes grew cold as he got to his feet. "Oh fuck you, Castiel. You can get off that righteous high horse already. Lisa and I broke up two months ago. She's a great girl, but I'm not the man for her. I tried to be that guy, honestly. But it just didn't work. I moved back to Lawrence three weeks ago and I only came back to New York to pack up some of my shit and say goodbye to her kid." 

Castiel's eyes widened but Dean held up a silencing hand. "It's not my kid, man. But he's sweet, you know? I liked throwing the ball around with him, taking him to movies and shit. That's what I was doing today when Lisa begged me to come to this party with her because she didn't know anybody and didn't want to go alone. I had pretty much written this one off as a bust until you walked in with that damn look on your face and talking about pie." 

"You're back in Kansas?" Cas asked, his mind reeling slightly. 

"Yeah, man. I'm working for my uncle Bobby at his auto shop and looking after my old man. Trying to save up a little extra cash so Sammy can go to law school in a couple years. Grow up and be a big fancy lawyer like you." 

"I'm sorry," Cas admitted. "I guess I forgot to ask." 

Dean snorted and pulled his shirts back on over his head one at a time, concealing himself from Cas with each layer. 

"I guess so. Whatever, let's call it even. This was fun and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wanted to suck your cock since I was sixteen." 

Cas flushed at the admission, his face burning as he averted his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, but Dean cut him off. 

"Sorry I left you hanging all those years ago and I'm glad we could catch up. But now, I'm going to take my walk of shame straight home to Kansas. See you around, Cas." 

The door slammed behind Dean and Cas ran a rough hand through his hair. That hadn't gone exactly as planned and he certainly had not meant to come out of the whole thing looking like such a jackass, but here he was. And now Dean was gone and Castiel's life could resume functioning as normal. 

When Cas rejoined the party, Dean was nowhere to be seen. In fact, the majority of the guests had departed, save for a few hangers on. Charlie had given up on Lisa and was currently curling flirtatious fingers around a lock of blonde hair belonging to some giggling art student. Kevin was slumped next to her on the couch looking worse for wear. 

When they caught sight of Cas, Charlie whistled, scanning her eyes up and down his ripped and wrinkled clothing and the love bites on his neck. 

"Damn, dude. You look properly _fucked,"_ Kevin exclaimed with a giggle. 

Cas just groaned and dropped onto the couch between them. Charlie fixed him with a knowing look but kept her fingers tangled in the blonde girl's curls. 

"Jesus," Kevin said with a wince. "You _smell_ properly fucked too. 

"Ugh," Charlie cringed. "Let me guess, Winchester?" 

Cas put his face in his hands and slumped forward as Kevin patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Dean _fucking_ Winchester."


	5. Chapter 5

It was 2:30 AM on a Wednesday when Cas received the call from Anna. 

"Dad's gone, Cas," she said, her voice hollow and tinny over the mobile phone. 

Cas threw back the covers and pushed himself to a seated position, running a hand over his sleep-crusted eyes and stubbled chin. "Just now?" 

"About an hour ago. I just found out. The nurse called. I'm sorry to call so late-" her voice cracked. "I just wanted you to know." 

"Thanks, Anna. Are you alright?" 

"I guess. I don't know," she sighed. "Not really." 

"I have to wrap up some things at the office but I'll get the earliest flight out on Friday. Have you called Gabe?" 

"Not yet," she said. She sounded so small and Cas wished he could reach through the phone line and hug her. 

"Don't worry, I'll do it. We'll see you on Friday." 

There was silence over the line and for a long moment and Castiel thought maybe Anna had hung up, but then she spoke. "Love you, Cas." 

"Love you too, Anna. See you soon." 

___________________ 

                                                   

Cas and Gabe arrived in Kansas City in the late afternoon on Friday. Gabriel had been unusually quiet and solemn during the short flight, neglecting his usual quips and flirtations with the flight attendants in lieu of staring at the ice melting in his plastic cup of diet coke. Things remained tense and silent even after Anna picked them up from the airport. 

The Novak children had never been particularly close with their father, whose austere nature and religious fervor had sent the three of them scattering away from the family home as soon as they were of age. Inias Novak was not a bad man and never treated his children unkindly, but his absolute devotion to his faith was in near direct conflict with Gabriel's sense of impropriety, Anna's feminist politics and Castiel's sexual preferences. After their mother died when Cas was still an undergrad, Inias simply drifted out of their lives and into silence, leaving the three Novak children free to pursue their own futures away from the church. He hadn't even told them when he was diagnosed with lung cancer, despite never having smoked a day in his life. 

The dark cloud that hovered over Cas and his siblings was nothing like the grief that had wrung them dry of tears after the death of their mother. This death they would mourn quickly and quietly, never mentioning the regret each of them felt for leaving their father and their home in Lawrence behind.  

Anna left her husband and young daughter at home in Kansas City while she and her brothers drove to Lawrence to collect their father's ashes and sort through his possessions before they each returned to their respective lives. The drive was a little under and hour but the heat was oppressive that day, and despite Anna's assurances that the air conditioner was running full blast, Cas could feel the sweat prickling beneath his arms and at the small of his back. 

Halfway through the short drive, Anna's minivan stuttered noisily before rolling to a stop on the shoulder of the road. 

"Shit," she cursed, slamming her hand against the steering wheel. 

The three of them exited the car and the heat descended upon them with a near physical weight. Gabriel popped the hood of the van and stared into it blankly, rubbing his thumb and forefinger across his chin around a nonexistent beard. 

"Do you know what the problem is, Gabe?" Anna asked hopefully. 

Gabriel snorted loudly. "Fuck if I know. Is this bit the engine?" he said gesturing vaguely at the hissing, steaming metal. 

Cas rolled his eyes. "We're going to need to call a tow truck. Anna, do you have AAA?" 

Anna nodded and dug her card out of her wallet. Cas called and arranged for the tow truck to meet them. If the problem was worse than a dead battery they would need to tow the van to a shop in Lawrence, but until then Cas, Anna and Gabe were stuck sweating through their shirts on the side of Interstate 70. 

By the time the tow truck arrived, Cas’ hair was plastered to his forehead in damp little ringlets and Anna's mascara was slipping around her eyes. Gabriel laid dramatically spread-eagled in a patch of grass beside the highway and declared himself "working on his farmer's tan." The man who stepped out of the tow truck was wearing a sympathetic smile and a rather spectacular mullet. 

"Hoo boy, it's a scorcher, innit?” he said. 

"Yes, indeed," Cas said shortly. 

"Y'all look like a bunch of pigs on the spit out here," he said, turning to Cas "You oughta learn to properly ventilate, my man." He gestured to Cas' soaked button down and then to his own t-shirt, which was ratty, stained and clearly altered to be sleeveless. 

"Yeah, Cassie. Let's just cut those fancy lawyer sleeves off you. We're in Kansas now, buddy!" Gabriel snickered. "Giorgio Armani won't mind, I'm sure." 

The man with the mullet just shrugged. "You laugh now, but let me tell you, a little wind in your pits and you'll be singing a different tune." 

Anna made a face and Gabriel laughed outright as the sleeveless, mulleted man went to fiddle under the engine. After a few moments he returned his attention to Cas and his siblings. 

"Well, I got bad news and I got good news. The bad news is, it isn't the battery. Can’t jump start it." 

"And the good news?" Anna tried, hopefully, tucking a sweaty tendril of hair behind her ear. 

"The good news is, my name is Ash and I will be escorting you back to the auto body shop in my chariot here," he said with a bow and a sweeping gesture toward the rusty, rundown tow truck. 

It was incredibly cramped in the cab of the truck and no matter how small he tried to make himself, Cas was pressed skin to Armani shirt sleeves with Ash and Gabriel. Fortunately, the vehicle was blessed with air conditioning. Not so fortunately, Ash had a penchant for loud music of the acid rock variety and Cas longed for his Benz back in Manhattan and the soothing sound of the London Philharmonic over his noise-canceling speakers. 

"So, this your first trip to Kansas?" Ash shouted over the blaring radio. 

"No," Cas said shortly. "Our parents lived in Lawrence. We went to high school here." 

"No kidding! I wouldn't have pegged you two city boys for bonafide Kansans," Ash said with a friendly punch to Cas' shoulder. 

"We aren't Kansans. We grew up in Chicago," Cas explained, though he didn't know why he bothered. 

Ash whistled. "Windy City, eh? That where you live now, then?" 

Cas sighed. He had no desire to make small talk with the tow truck driver, but Gabriel had other ideas. Even Anna seemed pleased by Ash's friendly demeanor and attempts to distract them from the frightful tasks that awaited them in Lawrence. 

"Nah," Gabriel offered with a wave of his hand. "Anna here has got a place with a picket fence and a Ken doll for a husband in KC. Cassie and I live in New York. He's a fancy lawyer and I make a living getting sued." 

It wasn't entirely untrue. Gabriel worked for a top advertising company in the city but had once again gotten himself into hot water with the firm after calling one of their largest clients “a big bag of dicks” on television. In the end, Gabriel won the lawsuit and with it, a small fortune. 

"Well, you folks don't need to worry 'bout a thing. We're going to get that mom mobile of yours fixed right up. The place may not look like much, but the boys over at Singer Auto do a mighty fine job," Ash assured as they pulled up in front of a gated salvage yard. 

Gabriel, who was draining a plastic water bottle, started choking and sputtering, spraying water all over the windshield, his face turning beet red from lack of oxygen. Cas gave him a firm thump on the back while Ash went to open the gate. 

"Good ol' Singer Auto, eh?" Gabriel said, between gasps of air. "What are the odds?" 

Cas ignored him, as per usual. Ash returned to the cab of the truck and proceeded to the mouth of a wide garage with a low ceiling. The salvage yard surrounding the body shop was littered with the rusted carcasses of long forgotten cars. Some had been stripped so bare there was nothing left but a lopsided frame. The garage itself was cluttered and lined with teetering stacks of tires and currently housed a couple of vehicles including an old Ford Taurus hoisted up on lifts, a rusty red pickup truck and a shiny black muscle car. A very familiar shiny black muscle car. 

Anna and Gabriel got out of the truck and followed Ash towards the little office at one end of the garage, but Cas stayed put, less because he didn't want to move and more because he simply _couldn't._ A poorly repressed memory of a party in Brooklyn nearly a decade old decided to bubble to surface. 

_"You're back in Kansas?"_  

_"Yeah man. I'm working for my uncle Bobby at the auto shop..."_   

How many times over that one glorious summer had a love-struck teenaged Cas listened to Dean talk about his "uncle" Bobby over hamburgers and fries at the diner? His uncle Bobby _Singer._ As in _Singer Salvage and Auto,_ just like the lopsided, hand-painted sign above the office door read. Oh _no._  

Cas was not ready for this. He flipped down the visor in the tow truck and gave himself a cursory look. He was a mess. His hair was no longer sticking to his face but had instead decided to stage a rebellion and go absolutely every which way. His cheeks and nose were pink, bordering on red from overexposure to the sun while his button down was ringed with sweat around the collar and underarms and Cas silently cursed Ash for being right about the sleeveless thing. He was desperately trying to flatten his hair into some semblance of normalcy when he caught Gabe's backwards glance and sinister smile. 

"Come on, bro!" Gabe called, but Cas just shook his head and sunk down further into the seat like a petulant child. 

And it was childish, really. He was hiding from a guy he'd had a little crush on in _high school_ , for god sake. He wasn't a starry-eyed teenager anymore, tripping over his own feet every time he caught a glance of a pair of emerald green eyes. At thirty-one, Castiel was the youngest partner in the history of Adler, MacLeod & Masters LLC. He had a fancy car, an expensive apartment in Manhattan and a closet containing multiple designer suits. So, why was he hiding? And from Dean Winchester, of all people? Dean Winchester who was still living in Lawrence, working as a mechanic at a junkyard for his "uncle" Bobby just like his father before him. Dean Winchester who had probably gotten fat or bald or red-faced and ugly over the last eight years. Yes, that would be the case, he was sure of it. 

Cas mustered his courage and peeled himself from the leather seat to trot after his brother into the office. Inside, Ash was explaining the situation to a paunchy older man with a scruffy beard and a dirty trucker hat. 

"Got a minivan in a state of crisis, boss. These folks are from outta town and they'll need her fixed up ASAP," Ash explained. 

The man behind the desk grunted and leveled the Novaks with a squinty-eyed stare. "How soon will you need it?" he asked gruffly 

"As soon as you're able. We're in town for..." Anna hesitated. "We're here for few days. Is that enough time?" 

Bobby shrugged. "Have to see what the trouble is, but so long as we've got the parts it shouldn't be a problem. Ash, go get Winchester to take a look." 

The bottom dropped out of Cas’ stomach and he felt Anna's eyes slide to him and Gabriel practically squeal with malicious glee as he bounced on his heels. Bobby gave them a strange look but didn't bother asking any questions.  

"Sorry, boss. Dean's gone for the day. Sam came and picked him up before the party at the Roadhouse tonight. Said he'd be back for the Impala later." 

Cas let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Gabriel didn't even have the dignity to pretend he wasn't disappointed.  

Bobby grumbled again. "Damn idjit. Alright, he'll look at it tomorrow. You folks can leave me your number and I'll get back to you with an estimate. Ash, get them a loaner for the weekend." There was more unintelligible muttering that sounded something like _goodfornothingsonofa_ and then _damnlazyidjit,_ but Cas couldn't be sure. 

"Alrighty! We got a Toyota Corolla in a beautiful olive green you can borrow for the weekend while we fix up your ride. I'll just need your John Hancock on a couple things and you'll be on your way. Know where you're stayin'? Need any directions?" Ash asked. 

"Yes, we'll be staying at our parent's old house on -" Anna started but Gabriel cut her off. 

"You know, I'm feeling a bit peckish. I could go for a good ol' fashioned burger and fries with an nice cold beer." 

"Normally, I'd say Benny's diner on 3rd, but the place is closed for the evening. Second best bet is gonna be Harvelle's Roadhouse, right next door to the diner," Ash offered. 

"Is that so?" Gabriel said innocently, turning his shit-eating grin on Castiel. "Roadhouse it is then!" 

  

___________________ 

  

The Roadhouse looked exactly the same as Castiel remembered it. The sky was just starting to darken as Cas pulled the loaner Toyota (which was by all accounts _not_ an olive color but a distinctive shade of baby shit green) into the spot next to Ash's truck alongside the weathered old building. As if on cue, the neon sign reading _Harvelle's Roadhouse_ flickered to life with a hum. Anna jumped from the car and clapped her hands gleefully, her face transforming with the first smile Cas had seen all day. Gabriel threw an arm playfully around his sister and turned to Cas, who was still firmly planted in his seat. 

"C'mon, Cassie. Let's get you some meat," Gabe said and Anna snickered as they headed for the front door.  

Cas slid from the front seat of Baby Shit Green and followed Ash and his siblings reluctantly into the old bar. 

Inside, the place was dark and a little bit smoky. There was an L-shaped bar at the center of the room surrounded by rickety wooden sets of tables and chairs. There were a handful of patrons scattered around drinking from sweating beer bottles or cloudy glasses. Their voices were muffled and punctuated by the clack of balls from the pool table and hollow sounds of empty bottles hitting table tops. 

An attractive middle-aged woman with soft brown hair and permanent scowl hollered at Ash from behind the bar.  

"Son, you get your skinny ass over here and give me a hand with these boxes," she said. 

"That's my cue," he said with a shrug to Cas, Anna and Gabe before jogging toward the bar. "Yes, ma'am. You got it." 

"Ah, the Roadhouse," Gabe said, taking in a lungful of the stale, smoky air. "Just like old times, eh Cassie?" 

"Yes, very nostalgic," Cas said with a frown, glancing warily around the bar for any familiar faces. Cas had only been inside the Roadhouse once. He was severely underage at the time but Gabe had somehow blackmailed him into trying to sneak in one night. Cas' nervousness and Gabriel's complete over confidence had given them away in seconds and the scowl-faced owner had chased them out. It was one of Castiel's most embarrassing memories; therefore Gabriel brought it up at every possible opportunity. 

"Can we just sit down?" 

"Sure thing, bro. Ah, how about right _here,_ " Gabe said, gesturing to a table in the very center of the room where practically everyone in the bar could see them. 

"No," Castiel said too quickly. "Over here." 

He led them to a booth in the darkest corner of the room and sat at the far end. Gabriel scoffed but slid in across from him anyway. Anna sat primly next to Cas with a sly little smile that put him even further on edge. 

Cas was carefully studying his nail beds and trying to merge with the vinyl of the seat when three laminated menus were slapped down on the table between them. 

"Drinks?" the waitress asked in a bored, flat voice. 

Cas recognized her immediately. She had the same long blonde hair, delicate face, petite frame and perpetually sarcastic voice that he remembered. He had been intensely jealous of Jo Harvelle at first for the effortless way she bantered and flirted with Dean, although Dean assured him that Jo was _family_. 

"Well, I guess things in Lawrence don't change much, do they?" Gabriel said, his gaze sliding up and down Jo's body lasciviously. Cas blushed and Anna gave Gabe a warning glare. 

Jo narrowed her eyes and shot Gabriel and appraising look. "Do I know you or something? 

Gabriel clutched his breast in mock horror. "And here I thought you were holding out for me all these years, Joanna Beth." 

Jo's face fell into a sneer as recognition dawned. "Ew. Gabriel. Like I could ever forget your particular brand of sexual harassment." 

"Ah, darling, you flatter me. Beers all around!" Gabriel said with a grin. 

"Whiskey," Cas said gruffly. "For me. Please. Make it a double." 

Jo gave him a hard stare and then the corner of her mouth twitched upwards slightly. "You got it." 

Jo sauntered back to the bar and Gabriel's eyes followed her as he hummed appreciatively. She leaned over the counter and whispered something to the older woman behind the bar (her mother, he remembered that now. Ellen, was it?), whose eyes then snapped directly to Castiel. Jo returned with their drinks a few moments later, but she didn't say anything. She just shoved a couple of beers at Gabe and Anna before delicately placing the whiskey in front of Cas. She smiled broadly, winked, and walked away.  

"Ooh," Anna grinned conspiratorially. "I think she likes you, Cas!" 

Gabriel looked smug. "Hmm, no, I don't think that's it." 

"Leave it, please, Gabriel," Cas begged. 

But apparently the whole universe had it out for Cas because at that moment the door to the Roadhouse swung open and a hulking figure stepped through. His appearance was greeted with a lot of noisy scraping of chairs against the floor, some cheering and a squeal from Jo at the bar. 

"Sam! You're back!" Jo said, barreling toward the giant man with her arms outstretched. 

Anna leaned over to Cas, her eyes wide and her eyebrows nearly at her hairline. "Well, he grew." 

To say Sam Winchester had "grown up" would be a vast understatement. Sam was huge, absolutely enormous. No longer was he the gangly, awkward boy made of string cheese from Castiel’s memories. His shaggy head nearly reached the top of the door frame and Cas estimated him to be at least 6'5" with hulking muscles and long limbs. If it hadn't been for the same floppy haircut and puppy-dog eyes, Cas may not have recognized him at all.  

After he gave Jo and then Ellen a hug, a few of the other bar patrons went to give Sam a handshake or a manly clap on the shoulder. He had a beer shoved into his hand before he could even sit down and was ushered toward the bar by his throng of old friends. 

"What, Sammy gets hugs and free beers and I don't even get a hello?" said a deep, playful voice from the door. 

"You have to go away long enough for us to miss you, Dean," Jo called back. 

Cas was wrong. God, he was so very, _very_ wrong. Dean Winchester was _not_ ugly. He was not fat nor had he lost his hair. No, Dean Winchester was still unbelievably, unacceptably good looking. If anything, time had only made him more rugged and handsome. He wore dark jeans, a moss green henley with the top two buttons undone and a worn looking leather jacket. He was looking particularly golden today and although he couldn't tell from so far away, Cas was sure that the hot summer sun had left even more of those beautiful freckles scattered across his nose and cheekbones. 

It was all of the two seconds it took for Cas to absorb Dean's beauty before his mind went directly into the gutter. In his head, he already had Dean pressed up against the wall and was licking a stripe up his neck, tasting the sweat on his skin and drinking in that leather, motor oil, musk and honey smell of him. 

Of course, Gabriel and Anna took notice immediately. Cas had gone tense in preparation to run or hide or maybe just slide under the table and live there forever where Dean wouldn't see him. But Gabriel could smell his cowardice like bloodhound. 

"Oh! What a delightful surprise!" he gushed. "It's Sam and Dean Winchester, our old neighbors. What are the odds of that?" 

"That's the second time you've asked that, Gabe. I'm starting to think this all part of one of your evil plots," Cas said, unable to tear his eyes from Dean, who now had his back to Cas and _oh my god,_ was his ass always that _perfect_? 

"Me? Evil? Plotting? Diabolical? Devilishly handsome? I have no idea what you're talking about," Gabriel announced theatrically. "And anyway," he continued. "Even I couldn't have manufactured the utter _perfection_ that is this moment."  

"I need to leave," Cas said, nudging his sister to let him out of the booth. 

"Oh no you don't," Gabriel said, holding out his hand to his sister. "Anna, you may have been too young to remember, but our dear brother had the biggest crush on Dean Winchester in high school. I'm fairly certain he spent everyday one summer just staring at Dean through the bushes like a total stalker." 

"Jesus, I can see why," Anna said with an appreciative nod toward Dean. Castiel was presently dying of embarrassment. "Did you ever get the nerve up to talk to him? Ask him out?" 

Cas cleared his throat. "You could say that."  

Gabriel laughed a little too loud. "He did more than that! John Winchester caught him with his hand down Dean's pants in the front seat of that sexy car of his. Cassie thinks that’s why the Winchesters moved away that summer. He like, 'the one who got away.'" 

"Actually, it was _his_ hand in _my_ pants, if you're going to divulge all my most embarrassing moments," Cas said, draining his glass. "Now, I'm going to leave before he sees me as I will assuredly make an ass of myself." 

"Oh my god, Castiel, you have to go talk to him," Anna said. 

"No, thank you, Anna. Today has been awful enough as it is. I do not need further mortification."  

"But _Cas_ ," she whined. " _Look_ at him! Do it for me. Do it for America." 

Cas fixed his sister with his most aggravated frown. "You are being ridiculous. Gabriel, you are a bad influence on our sister. And I am not going to talk to him. I swear to god, every time I open my mouth around Dean Winchester the absolute most horrible, humiliating thing I've ever said comes out of my mouth. He makes me extremely nervous. And I don't need that. Not today. Not ever. Now, if you'll excuse me." 

Cas gave Anna a shove and she went to stand reluctantly. He extracted himself from the booth and made a beeline for the door, keeping his head down and willing himself invisible. He was almost within an arm's length of the door when he heard Gabriel shout. 

"HEY CAS!" Every head in the bar swiveled in Gabriel's direction. "See you at home, bro!" Gabriel waved at him and then every head in the bar turned on Castiel. 

"Cas?" he heard Dean say from somewhere behind him. 

Castiel quickly estimated the number of years he would serve in prison for fratricide and weighed the option. He also seriously contemplated just ignoring Dean, running the last few steps to the door and driving away as fast as possible in Baby Shit Green; preferably to the airport where he could then board a plane to New York and never return to Lawrence, Kansas for the rest of his life. But instead, Cas turned to Dean with a grimace. 

"Oh, hello Dean," he said weakly. 

Dean took a few steps toward him and Cas looked him in the eyes for the first time in eight long years. Predictably, his brain shut down entirely. 

"Is that really you man? Holy shit, and Gabriel too?" Dean waved to Gabriel but took another step toward Cas until he was standing just a couple feet away. 

Cas opened his mouth but all that came out was, "I - uh -" He didn't know what to do with his hands. So he shoved them in his pockets. And then took them out and dropped them to his sides. What do people even do with their arms in these sorts of situations? What is proper arm etiquette? What looks most casual and not like he was about to faint. Which he wasn't.     

It was absolutely absurd. Cas was never like this. He was a god damn lawyer. He talked for a living, and yet, every time he was within a mile of Dean it was like all brain function came to a screeching halt and Cas was trapped in the body of an eternally awkward fifteen-year-old version of himself. Dean was not the only handsome man Cas had ever met. In fact he'd known many, even dated a few. But there was just something about Dean Winchester that turned him into a bowl of jello. Cas didn't believe in love at first sight, but if he ever did, he might use those words to describe meeting Dean. He just couldn't shake him, not entirely, no matter how far he moved or how many years passed. 

It was Sam who came to Castiel's rescue. He came up behind his brother, looming over him but fixing Cas with a friendly grin. "Cas? As in our old neighbor Castiel Novak?" 

Cas somehow managed to nod his head and smile at Sam in a way he hoped didn't look like a wince. 

"Yes, hello Sam. It's good to see you. You're looking...tall." 

Sam rolled his eyes at Cas but was still smiling. "Yeah, never heard that one before." 

"So, Cas," Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking very casual and decidedly not flustered. "What are you doing back in town?" 

"My father died," Castiel said with a little cough. "We are here to deal with the estate." 

The smiles slid off of the Winchesters' faces and Sam gave his brother a troubled glance. 

"I'm really sorry, Cas. I had no idea," Sam said sincerely. "If there is anything we can do to help, just let us know, okay?" 

"Yes, thank you, Sam. That's very kind of you." 

"You and your brother and sister should come sit with us," Sam suggested. "I just got into town today for summer vacation and we're having a little celebration." 

"Yeah, Sammy is in law school at Stanford. You guys can talk lawyering together," Dean said, giving his brother a friendly punch. 

"That's wonderful, Sam," Cas said. Talking to Sam was just easier, it always had been and if he intended on maintaining his equilibrium, he couldn't spend too much time looking at Dean when he spoke. "I will extend your invitation to Anna and Gabe. I was just about to leave, however and -" 

"Oh c'mon, Cas," Dean said, cutting him off. "Come hang with us for a little while. It'll be fun."  

Castiel was certain it would not be fun and was more likely to be torture, but Dean was looking at him and giving him a half smile and Cas felt his resolve weakening quickly. 

"Yes, alright," he said with a sigh and Dean treated him to a full face smile and Castiel's throat closed completely. He consciously did _not_ lick his lips when he remembered how good that smile tasted and how much he has missed it. 

Cas managed to relax minutely over the next couple hours. Conversation flowed easily and he found himself quite charmed by the Winchester brothers and their friends. Gabriel fit right in, of course, cracking jokes to fill any awkward silences, although there was little need for it. Castiel caught himself sporting a genuine smile and his heart felt just a bit lighter than it had that morning. 

He was laughing at a story Gabriel was telling to the group when he felt Dean lean into him, the warmth from his body melting though Castiel's clothes. He chanced a look at him only to see Dean giving him a sly smile and watching him out of the corner of his eye.   

"Say Cas, why did you come to the Roadhouse tonight?" 

"Gabriel wanted a burger and the tow truck driver suggested the location," Castiel answered simply. 

"Uh huh. And this tow truck driver, he didn't happen to mention I'd be here, did he?" Dean's smile was widening now and Castiel felt a flash of panic. Ash had directly stated that Dean would be at the Roadhouse that evening. Had he told Dean? 

"I - uh - I don't recall," Cas stuttered. 

"You sure it's not because you're stalking me? I mean, you have a weird tendency to just kind of...show up when I least expect it," Dean's eyes were sparkling in that way that meant he was teasing. The last time Dean gave him that look Cas was beneath him within the hour. 

"I assure you, Dean, it is purely coincidental," Cas said. 

"So you're saying you weren't going to look me up while you were in town?" 

Castiel gaped at this. "Well, no. I didn't think -" The words caught in his throat and he cleared it before starting again. "Would you have wanted me to?" 

Dean shrugged but his smile was soft. "Sure, Cas. But if it turns out you _are_ stalking me, you might as well make an appearance more than once a decade. Can't say I'd mind." 

Now Castiel was smiling as well. It spread across his face before he could stop it and everything felt sunshine warm. But the spreading warmth turned to a flush when he felt eyes on him. The Harvelles were watching and him and Dean leaning shoulder to shoulder and talking quietly. The women were whispering furiously behind their hands and Cas thought he might die if Jo threw him one more lascivious wink. But Dean, beautiful Dean, lowered his eyes and blushed the loveliest shade of pink and it took Castiel's breath away for about the hundredth time. 

And here he was again. Totally done for. A dead man walking. He had no chance against Dean Winchester and that unforgettable smile, those bright green eyes and easy charm. 

At that moment Sam decided to make it abundantly clear that he'd had too much to drink and in a fit of laughter at one of Gabe's jokes, tipped his chair over backwards and went sprawling backwards it a tangle of gigantic legs and arms. Of course, this only made Sam laugh harder and Dean declared it "Game Over." 

Sam leaned heavily on his brother while he slurred his goodbyes. Jo helped Dean get Sam into the black car Castiel remembered so well and he watched him go a little mournfully. The door swung shut behind them and he heard the low growl of the engine and the crunch of gravel. And he was gone. Dammit. 

"Well Cassie, you blew it," Gabriel said flippantly. "We might as well head home."  

"Shut up, Gabriel. I didn't _blow_ anything," Cas snapped. 

"Truer words were never spoken. Let's get out of here," Gabriel said, dropping a wad of bills on the table for a tip and pulling a sympathetic looking Anna towards the door. To Castiel's surprise, Ellen gave him a warm hug told him to come around more often. He didn't bother to remind her that he would be gone by Monday and followed Gabe and Anna to the loaner car. 

It wasn't until Castiel was halfway into the driver's seat when he noticed the folded scrap of paper placed under the windshield wiper. Written in pencil in a messy scrawl was the name "Dean Winchester" and a phone number. It had only taken him half a lifetime, but he finally had Dean's phone number. Castiel smiled so big his cheeks were aching by the time he pulled up in front of his childhood home.


	6. Chapter 6

Cas made it until the next night before he used Dean's phone number. He had spent the entire day sorting through room after room of his father's things and the weight of his death finally settled upon Castiel's weary shoulders. There would be no funeral as all those who would have been in attendance were already here, filtering through his earthly possessions. Inias Novak would be cremated and his ashes spread in the ocean, just as they had done for their mother. 

At dinner, the three of them picked at their food, not really eating anything, before all heading to bed early. But Cas couldn't sleep. He was sleeping on the living room couch while Anna and Gabriel used the remaining bedrooms upstairs. Castiel's bedroom was turned into an office promptly after he moved out, as if his father tried to erase his existence from their home in an attempt at denial towards his favorite son's "chosen lifestyle." 

The house was too quiet. Cas was used to falling asleep to the sounds of the city, but here, on the outskirts of Lawrence and away from the bustle of downtown, there was little sound. The white noise was deafening. By midnight, the constant buzz of the refrigerator was driving Cas so crazy he grabbed his phone and headed outside. He sat on the porch and took a lungful of the fragrant summer air and felt his mind settle just the slightest. 

He sent Dean a text: 

**_Are you up?_** **_It's Cas._**  

He put his phone down and stared up at the stars for a while. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen stars. After living in the city for so long, maybe he had forgotten they existed altogether. He let his mind wander until his phone chimed next to him and his heart leapt. 

**_I'm awake._** ** _Whatsup_** ** _?_**  

  

**_At my parents old house. It's really strange. Can't sleep._**  

**_Kind of disappointed we aren't neighbors anymore._**  

Cas sent the message before he could regret it. He had never been particularly adept at flirting. Every time he tried it always came out too stilted, too awkward and entirely too honest. It had a tendency to unsettle most people, although a select few were charmed by his strangeness. Very fortunately for him, Dean always seemed to be one of the latter. 

**_Oh yeah? Why? Want to watch me mow the lawn or something?_**  

Castiel flushed with pleasure and it made him feel bold. 

**_Oh my god. Please?_**  

He imagined he could hear Dean's laugh all the way across town.  

It was a few minutes before Dean responded and by the time his phone chimed again, Cas was in the middle of a fairly detailed memory of the color of the late summer sun on Dean's naked shoulders or the length of his throat when he drained a glass of lemonade. 

**_You know, my place isn't THAT far from yours. It's kinda late for mowing the lawn_** ** _tho_** ** _..._**  

Castiel's heart thudded in his chest. He didn't mean...he couldn't mean...could he? Maybe it was the impermanence of the thing, the time limit on the offer that made Cas feel brazen. He would be gone by Monday, back to New York and his regular life and his regular job. If Dean rejected him now, who would know? Who would care? 

**_Forget the lawn. It can wait. Tell me where and I'll be there in five minutes._**  

Castiel had an address in seconds. He jumped into Baby Shit Green and drove across town to Dean's house. During the short drive, Cas had to remind himself multiple times that he was a full-grown adult and was more than allowed to do things like this. It was probably because he was staying in his parents’ house that he was flooded with adolescent fantasies upon seeing the man who'd haunted the recesses of his mind for so very long. 

___________________ 

  

Dean’s house was small but quaint. It was surrounded by a well-kept lawn (naturally) and a simple flower garden lined the front entrance. It was late, after midnight, but the lights in the windows glowed warmly and Cas squashed the swarm of butterflies that decided to take wing in his gut. He flipped down the visor mirror and tried to smooth his hair, flatten his collar and tested his breath against the back of his hand. 

He approached the door, took a shuddering breath and knocked lightly. The door swung open under his hand almost immediately and Dean was standing there in a halo of warm, inviting light and Cas hoped his breath didn't catch in his throat too audibly. Dean looked rumpled and soft in a pair of loose jeans and a gray t-shirt worn thin with time. His feet were bare and his smile was bashful. Castiel was utterly charmed. 

"Wow, Cas. You really weren't kidding about the five minutes thing. Did you speed the whole way here?" Dean said, his eyes finally meeting Cas’ as he leaned against the door frame. 

"Not the whole way," Cas admitted. 

Dean's answering laugh was soft and he stepped aside to allow Cas inside. Dean's home was very much like the man himself: humble, utilitarian and unadorned. The furniture was all sturdy, heavy wood and the hulking couch was a buttery, worn leather. Dean's boots were heaped at the end of the couch and a couple of empty beer bottles sat on the coffee table, leaving wet rings of condensation. 

"Want a beer?" Dean asked as he rubbed his hand over the back of his neck self-consciously, his eyes darting everywhere but Cas. 

"Alright," Cas answered. He settled himself on the large couch and let the cushions absorb him and ease his nerves. "So, Dean, what are you doing up so late?" 

Dean laughed nervously and crossed the room to the small attached kitchen and fumbled around in the fridge. "Sammy just went to bed, but I don't sleep too well," he said with a shrug. "Never have." 

"And why's that?" Cas asked. 

Dean hummed and handed him a beer before settling down next to him, just slightly too close. "What are you, my doctor? And how about you, Mr. Spanish Inquisition? What keeps you up at this hour?" 

Cas gave Dean a sly look and watched enraptured as that beautiful flush crept across Dean's cheeks. "I'd have thought that was obvious." 

"Not  _that_ obvious. You're the one who wasn't even going to look me up while you were in town. Were you avoiding me, Cas?" There was laughter in Dean's voice although his face was painted in a mask of disappointment. 

"Yes, well, I certainly didn't expect you to look, you know, like  _this_ ," Cas blurted without thinking, gesturing with one hand to Dean's general godly personage. 

"Oh? Think I'd turned into some fat old fart?" A smile was playing at the corners of Dean's lips now and Cas was determined to coax it out of him. He had to see it, even if it was the last thing he did. 

"You were awfully fond of a double cheeseburger with extra bacon, if I remember correctly. I simply extrapolated," Cas said with a smirk. 

Dean's laughter bubbled out of him and it was the singular most glorious sound Castiel had ever heard. Before he could even consider what he was doing, he lunged across the small space between them and pressed his lips against Dean's. Dean let out a muffled exclamation of surprise and Cas used this moment to his advantage, swiping his tongue between Dean's lips and tangling his hands into the short, soft hair at the back of his neck. 

The first brush of Dean's tongue against his, light and teasing, and desire hit Castiel like a bolt of electricity in his stomach. And holy lord, kissing Dean Winchester was not something easily forgotten, although it seemed to take him by surprise every time. That soft, beautiful mouth and clever tongue never failed to turn Cas to molten goo no matter how much time had passed. And Dean tasted  _so good,_ sweet and slightly sticky like sugared fruit. No person had any right to taste that good. 

"Oh my god, Dean," Cas mumbled against Dean's perfect lips when he surfaced for a breath. "You taste delicious. What on earth were you eating?" 

Dean chuckled. "Ah, Benny from the diner may have sent Sam home with some pie and I may have gone ahead and eaten half of it on my own." 

"Mm," Cas said, reclaiming Dean's lips and tangling his tongue with his own and then pulling away with a light nip to his bottom lip. "Cherry?" 

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Please. Strawberry rhubarb." 

"Of course. I should have known." 

"God, Cas," Dean moaned, a sound that went straight to Castiel's groin. "Do you remember that pie you made for that party in Brooklyn? Well,  _allegedly_  made." 

"Yes, Dean. I doubt I could forget it. It isn't often that someone takes me to bed based on my baking prowess," Cas said. 

Dean threw back his head and laughed. "Take you to bed? Jesus Christ, Cas. You sound like you're in a Jane Austen novel sometimes. The shit you say. It does things to me." 

Castiel didn't know whether to be offended or not. It wasn't the first time he'd been teased for speaking English properly, and perhaps adding a flourish every now and then. But good things tended to happen when Dean teased him, so he decided to let it go. 

"What would you rather I say?" 

"I wouldn't rather you say anything. I like the way you talk. It's very, I don't know,  _you._ But it isn't what most people would say." 

"Oh? What would most people say?" 

Dean tilted his head and narrowed his eyes and his smile turned mischievous. "They'd say I sucked your cock over a damn good piece of pie." 

Castiel cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Well, why don't you bring me a piece of that pie of yours then?" 

"Oh really? You expect me to share?" Dean asked with a smirk. 

"Is it good?" 

"Very." 

"Then I want to know if it's good enough to suck your cock over." 

Dean’s eyes widened almost comically. "But Benny made the pie..." 

"Then maybe I should call Benny and go suck his c-" but Dean muffled the rest of the words with the palm of his hands. 

"Don't you dare." Dean was grinning widely and his eyes sparkled with mirth.  "But say cock again." 

"Cock." 

Dean laughed and kissed him square on the mouth before standing and going back into the kitchen. Cas didn't even try to fight the smile on his face. Dean's easy confidence was infectious and despite the stupid, blundering words that always sprang from Castiel's lips in Dean's heady presence, Dean just grinned or laughed, so Cas did the same. 

He desired Dean, there was no question of that considering his mind was firmly planted in the gutter for every moment he spent in the other man's presence. But it wasn't just that. Cas liked just being around Dean. He liked the banter and the teasing, the incessant flirting. He liked being able to make Dean smile, to see him laugh until there were creases at the corners of his eyes. Castiel just  _liked_ Dean.  

Oh, and that wasn't good at all. Liking Dean wasn't part of the plan. In fact, Castiel's only plan as of late was aptly titled Operation: Avoid Dean Winchester, which had royally failed, obviously. Cas would return to New York tomorrow evening as scheduled and Dean would stay in Lawrence with his friends and family where he belonged. And maybe, in another eight to ten years, they would see each other again and Dean would say something snarky and witty and Cas would blurt out something absolutely ridiculous and accidentally pornographic and Dean would laugh and everything would be right in the world again. But for now, Dean, the one man Cas couldn’t get over, the one who got away before he'd ever really had him, was standing in front of him holding a piece of pie and wearing that beautiful grin and he let himself be drawn into Dean's orbit yet again. It felt awfully good to let go. 

So Castiel placed a hand on either side of Dean's face and kissed him. And then kissed him again. He kissed him until Dean melted against him, wrapping one arm around his waist and pulling him close, the other holding the pie out and away from them. He kissed Dean long and deep until his body began to burn with urgent need. 

"Bedroom," he murmured, taking Dean's bottom lip between his teeth and then releasing it with a flick of his tongue. "Now, please." 

Dean pulled back and looked at the plate forlornly. "But you didn't even try the pie." 

Cas sighed dramatically and snatched the plate from Dean's outstretched arm. He stabbed into the fruit and scooped a large bite onto the fork, which he shoved in his mouth before fixing Dean with a look that said "satisfied?" without having to talk with his mouth full and risk spitting pie all over the floor. 

"And?" Dean prompted. "What's the verdict, Judge Judy? How is it?" 

It really was good. The fruit was soft but not mushy and there was just the right amount of sugar. The crust was flaky and light and melted on his tongue. But to be honest, Cas really couldn't be fucked about the pie right now because he  _needed_  Dean, needed to feel skin on skin, needed to see him tangled in sheets and moaning Castiel's name. 

"Mm, delightful," Cas said thickly around a mouthful of fruit. "Now let's go." 

"Jeeze, you're eager," Dean said with smirk and let Cas pull him by the wrist down the hall. 

Dean's room was the last door on the right. Inside it was much like the rest of the house, sparsely furnished with very little decoration aside from a couple of framed photographs. But Cas didn't spend much time appraising his surroundings and instead stripped off his shirt, threw it to the ground and turned to Dean, who was looking at him with one eyebrow raised and a grin. Cas beckoned him with a crooked finger and Dean laughed and stepped forward into his space. 

Dean kissed Cas this time, pulling him against his body and running strong, calloused hands across his lower back and up between his shoulder blades. Dean kissed him so thoroughly that he saw flashes of light explode behind his eyelids. Cas always thought the whole "seeing fireworks" thing was just a cliché, a device invented by the romance novel, but that was foolish. How could he possibly forget the explosion of colors that painted his vision every time Dean kissed him starting with that first time when he was fifteen years old in the front seat of the Impala? He'd never known anyone who could take him apart with just a kiss. In fact, he'd never known anyone who could take him apart at all, except for Dean, of course. And that realization was all too sobering. So he threw himself back into the kiss, focusing on the feel of those plush lips against his, the slick heat of Dean's tongue in his mouth. 

Cas pulled the hem of Dean's t-shirt up and ran his hands over the smooth, muscled skin of his abdomen and chest. Dean took the hint and yanked his shirt over his head and chucked it carelessly onto the floor with Castiel's. 

"Only one shirt today, Dean? Thank God," Cas said as he pressed open-mouthed kisses and nips along Deans collar bone and shoulder as Dean shivered. 

"Yeah, thought I'd make it easy for you this time." 

"How very considerate," Cas hummed, dragging his lips over Dean's pulse and feeling it race beneath his tongue. 

Castiel let's his hands wander, memorizing the dips and curves of Dean's hip bones, the taught planes of his stomach with just the right amount of give around the waist, the smoothness of his broad shoulders dotted with golden freckles. 

“You have a tattoo,” Cas murmured against the flesh of Dean’s shoulder. “That wasn’t there last time.” 

Cas pulled back slightly and smoothed his fingers over the circle of black ink flames around a star that stood out against the tanned skin of Dean’s left pectoral. 

“Hm? Oh yeah, that,” Dean said, his cheeks flushing slightly. “Sammy and I got them together before he left for school. It’s for protection, or some shit.” 

“I like it,” Cas said, running the flat of his tongue over the mark and then swirling the tip around the nipple below, feeling it harden beneath his ministrations. 

Dean gasped and threaded his fingers through Castiel’s hair, gripping slightly. Dean’s hands ran confidently down Castiel’s spine and into the waistband of his jeans, squeezing his ass tight and making Cas groan. Dean dropped his head and whispered into Castiel’s ear in a low, sultry voice. “I want to fuck you. Please let me fuck you.” 

Cas groaned again, louder this time and pressed himself harder against Dean’s body. “God yes.”   

Dean fixed Castiel with a wicked grin and crowded against him, driving him back until they were sprawled out on Dean’s bed and Dean was crawling over him, popping open the button of Cas’ jeans with his thumb and forefinger and dragging down the zipper. Cas couldn’t help but press up against the flat of Dean’s hand as he freed him from his jeans, his erection springing free as Dean yanked the jeans off completely and tossed them to the floor. Dean pressed his nose against the trail of dark hair beneath Cas’ bellybutton and inhaled deeply. 

“God damn, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured and Castiel moaned as the vibrations of Dean’s voice sent shivers across his skin. 

Castiel’s eyes were squeezed shut so when he felt Dean’s tongue curl around the head of his aching cock he gasped audibly and his hips thrust upwards, seeking that tantalizing warmth. 

“And so responsive,” Dean chuckled, running his tongue along Castiel’s length before gripping the base of his cock with one hand and pinning his hips down firmly with the other. 

He swallowed Cas down to the base before dragging the heat of his mouth back up to the head, his hand following behind leaving the skin slick and Cas burning with need. He repeated this with agonizing slowness until Cas’ hips were rocking into him, chasing the heat of Dean’s mouth as wanton little moans escaped his lips. Dean was unbelievably good at this. He kept Cas hovering on the edge of too much and not nearly enough and it made him wild and desperate. By this point, Castiel’s brain had completely shut off and he was begging for relief, shivering from the strain of it, his flesh alight and his cock aching. 

“Please, God. Oh god - fuck, Dean. I need you. Fuck me please.  _Please,_ ” Cas whined, his voice shaky and desperate. 

Dean growled and he released Castiel abruptly. “You know I like it when you beg,” he said with an evil grin and stood up, unbuttoning his jeans and letting them drop to the floor. 

Cas was practically writhing on the sheets, his body longing for Dean’s touch. Dean leaned forward over the bed, still standing but bracing himself against the mattress with one knee. He gave Cas a gentle shove and Cas rolled over onto his stomach, dragging himself to his knees with his arms folded and cradling his head against the mattress, his cock hanging hard between the triangle of his spread legs. Cas heard Dean fumbling briefly in the drawer of the bedside table but he didn’t bother to turn and look. He felt the mattress shift as Dean settled behind him, humming appreciatively at Cas’ submissive pose. 

Dean ran a hand all the way down Cas’ spine before pressing between the cheeks of his ass, his fingers slick with lube as the circled his opening. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good,” Dean murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Gonna make you come so hard and ruin you for anybody else. From now on, every time you’ve got a cock inside you’re going to wish it was mine.” 

One finger pressed inside and Castiel gasped. It had been way too long since he had gotten laid and the digit stretched him almost painfully. But the pain quickly gave way to pleasure as Castiel’s muscles relaxed and Dean worked him open gently. A second finger joined the first and Dean was the one to moan this time. 

“Fuck, you are so tight,” Dean groaned. He scissored his fingers inside Cas and brushed over the prostate lightly, causing Cas to spasm and precome to leak from the tip of his cock. Dean swiped his fingertips over the little bundle of nerves more purposefully this time and Cas let out a wild noise, pressing back into Dean’s fingers. 

“Oh god, Dean. I need – please – I need more,” Cas said brokenly and Dean acquiesced, pressing a third finger inside and running across Cas’ prostate with each slide in and out.  

It was torture. No matter how desperately Cas pressed back against Dean, he didn’t increase his pace. He continued to carefully open Cas up, his eyes fixed on the place where his fingers entered Cas’ body. Castiel risked a glance over his shoulder only to feel a shock of lust at the look on Dean face, his pupils blown wide and his lips partly slightly, wet from his tongue. And god, Castiel wanted him. He wanted him more than he’d ever wanted anyone. He wanted to study his face while Dean fucked him, to watch the fire burn in his eyes and the sweat bead on his temples. He wanted to watch as Dean came undone, to see him shatter with his cock buried so deep inside him that they would feel like one. He couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Enough,” Cas said as firmly as he was capable. Dean removed his fingers and Castiel whimpered slightly at the loss. Before Dean could position himself behind him, Cas twisted around, wrapping his hand around Dean’s wrist and giving him a hard yank. Dean lost his balance and landed on his back on the mattress with a huff. 

“Condom?” Cas asked and Dean gestured with his head to the nightstand. Cas snatched the little foil packet and tore it open. He watched Dean’s eyes darken as he rolled the rubber down his thick cock with gentle fingers. He slicked Dean with more lube from the bottle on the nightstand and positioned himself over Dean, straddling his hips and pressing a hand against his firm chest. Dean gripped his hips tight enough to bruise as Cas eased himself down on top of Dean’s cock, the fire in his belly burning hot as his body stretched around him. 

Dean was watching him with wide, fluttering eyes, his lips parted around a moan as Cas ground down on top of him, circling his hips and rocking against him until he could feel Dean settled deep inside him, the hot, hard tip of his erection rubbing against Cas’ prostate with each tilt of his pelvis. Using the strength in his thighs, Cas lifted himself up until Dean almost slid out and then impaled himself again, relishing the aching burn that was working its way up his spine. 

They were both moaning loudly now, Dean’s bottom lip clamped between his teeth to stifle the sound. He thrust up against Cas with his hips, pressing himself impossibly deeper. 

“God, Dean,” Cas moaned. “You feel so fucking good.” 

Castiel was on fire. His breath was coming in ragged little gasps and his voice was so wrecked with lust that it was little more than a rasp. The desire inside him was burning so hot and Cas wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He continued to thrust and grind against Dean while dropping open mouthed kisses and bites across his chest, neck and beautiful mouth until Dean wrapped a hand around Castiel’s rigid erection and Cas lost all control. He fucked against Dean and into his fist until the rush of blood in his ears and the aching burn in his gut reached a crescendo and he was coming. 

“Oh fuck,” Dean cursed as come striped over his chest and hand. “That was so fucking hot. Holy shit, Cas.” 

Dean continued to fuck him even harder through his orgasm until Castiel’s body was quivering and raw, Castiel’s name falling from his lips over and over until Dean stilled, his body rigid and his eyes squeezed shut, his lip trapped between his teeth. Cas slumped forward, curling his body around Dean as he felt his insides flood with warmth and Dean came, his cock throbbing deep inside him. 

Eventually, Dean’s body went lax and Cas rolled off of him with a grunt and landed in an ungraceful heap next to him. Dean was laying on his back with an arm thrown over his eyes, his chest heaving with each breath until he dropped his arm and fixed Cas with the sweetest, most brilliant smile he’d ever seen. 

“That,” Dean said, removing the condom with a wince and tossing it into the trash can beside the bed. “Was fucking amazing.  _You_  are fucking amazing.” 

Cas tried to hide his blush behind his hands but Dean wasn’t having it, rolling over on top of Cas’ spent body and peppering light kisses across the stubble of his jaw and the crests of his cheekbones. Then Dean took his face between his strong hands and kissed him deeply, his lips soft and demanding against Castiel’s pliant ones. 

“You should see how fucking gorgeous you look when you come. God damn,” Dean said as he nuzzled against Castiel’s neck. 

Cas flushed for what was probably the hundredth time that night but said nothing. Dean was warm and solid on top of him and Cas wanted nothing more than to just close his eyes and fall asleep to Dean’s soft kisses and soothing voice. But, in the wake of the most powerful orgasm he’d had in years, the rational part of Castiel’s brain was starting to kick back in and he knew that in a few moments he would have to gather his discarded clothing and return to the lumpy couch in his dead father’s home. The thought was sobering and made Castiel’s blood run cold. He must have tensed, his discomfort showing on his face, because Dean just held him closer, his lips pressed against Castiel’s ear. 

“Do you want to stay tonight?” Dean asked. 

“I shouldn’t,” Cas started. “I don’t want to impose.” 

Dean snorted. “It’s taken me fifteen years to get you in my bed and you think I’m going to let you slink away into the night after fucking me like that? Just stay for tonight.” 

“Alright,” Cas sighed. 

They were silent for a few moments before Dean spoke again, his voice breaking through the darkness in the room and startling Castiel from his thoughts, which had turned rather maudlin. 

“So, how long are you in town?” Dean asked. 

“I leave tomorrow evening.” 

He heard Dean exhale slow and long before he spoke again. “Damn. Does that mean I’m going to have to wait another ten years before I get to see you again? I’ll be an old man by then, all ugly and fat and you won't want anything to do with me." 

Cas propped himself on his elbow and looked at Dean. Even in the scarce light that filtered in through the curtains from the street, Cas could see the fan of his eyelashes, the sharp curve of his cheekbones, the strong lines of his jaw. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever be ugly, Dean.” 

“Oh yeah?” Dean said and Cas could hear the smirk in his voice. “So that means you’ll still want to fuck me when we bump into each other again in ten years at a gas station or an Arby’s bathroom or something?” 

“I imagine so,” Cas said and Dean laughed and curled an arm around his waist. 

“Sure you can’t stay in Lawrence one extra day?” Dean asked. 

Castiel tried to hide his surprise. Of course he wanted to stay here with Dean, to remain exactly where he was indefinitely, curled in Dean’s sheets and cocooned in his intoxicating scent. It felt right. But reality had a way of crashing down on Dean and Cas every time, and he knew better than to fight it. 

“No. I have to be at the office on Monday,” he said. 

“That’s too bad. I have an awful lot of fun whenever you decide to show up,” Dean said. 

Castiel smiled. “Me too." 

They didn’t talk anymore after that. Castiel drifted off to sleep in Dean’s arms, his chin resting on Dean shoulder and his body curled around him as if they’d been sleeping that way for years. 

___________________ 

  

The next day was rather surreal. Castiel woke in Dean’s bed to soft, full lips trailing across his neck and chest. They had sex again that morning and it was slow and drawn out, all lingering touches and soft sighs. Then they took a hot shower together and Cas tried to convince his traitorous heart not to clench painfully as Dean lavished him with affection that was just this side of too tender for two people who hardly knew one another. It was strange and wonderful and Cas briefly allowed himself to pretend that it wouldn’t come to an abrupt end. 

Dean made him breakfast of eggs and bacon and Sam wandered in and out of the kitchen with a smug, knowing look on his face that made Castiel blush and Dean smile widely. While Dean cleaned up the dishes, Cas stalled. He wandered Dean’s little house before examining a set of framed photographs placed lovingly on the mantle. Cas was drawn immediately to one picture in particular. It was a photo of Dean and Sam standing in the front yard of their childhood home, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, grinning widely. Dean looked to be about sixteen and Castiel couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. 

Dean came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Cas' waist and rested his chin on his left shoulder. He smelled like soap and fresh coffee and  _Dean_  and Cas leaned into the embrace. "Oh man, that was the day I got my driver’s license. I insisted on picking Sammy up from school just to embarrass him in front of his friends." 

“How could he possibly be embarrassed?” Cas said with a shake of his head. “You were so cool.” 

Dean laughed loudly and stepped back, running a hand through his sandy hair. “Yeah, maybe you thought so. But embarrassing my little brother was one of my favorite hobbies. He was a helluva lot less impressed by me.” 

“Just look at you,” Cas said with a little too much fondness in his voice. “This is what you look like in my memories." And admitting that was probably high on the list of "things not to tell Dean," but there it was. 

"Eternally sixteen?" 

"Yes." 

"What, you like them better young?" Dean teased. 

"No," Cas said, rolling his eyes. "I just remember you best looking like this. Young and so beautiful. I'd never seen anyone as beautiful as you." 

Dean didn't say anything for a moment as Castiel instantly regretted the word vomit. So he just shrugged. "Nostalgia. Never mind." He replaced the picture on the mantle and attempted to shake off the nagging feeling of longing that had taken root in his gut. 

Dean was studying him with a rather serious expression on his face, a little crease between his brows. Cas ran a finger over the little wrinkle to smooth it away. "What?" 

"I dunno, man," Dean replied with a little shake of his head. "You just say stuff sometimes..." 

"I've heard," Castiel said, sighing. 

Dean wandered back into the kitchen to finish cleaning up after breakfast and Cas hovered just outside the doorway. He knew he should be leaving. It was only a matter of time before Anna and Gabriel would wonder where he was and he would be forced to return to his father’s house, pack his things and go back to New York City. But there was something nagging at him. And since chances were he would never see Dean again, Castiel’s curiosity got the better of him. 

“Why did you move away?” he asked. 

“What?” Dean said, sounding a bit startled as he turned and faced Cas abruptly, dropping the sponge he was using into the sink with a soggy  _splat._  

“From Lawrence. In high school. Why did you move away?” 

Dean looked uncomfortable. "Dad got himself into some trouble. Owed a guy some money who threatened to come after us. Blah blah..." 

"So it wasn't because of me? Because of what your father saw?" Cas ventured. 

"What?” Dean’s eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god, no. Have you thought that all this time? I mean, I can't say the guy was pleased, but it also wasn't the first time I'd been caught with a dick in my hand that wasn't my own,” Dean said with a self-deprecating smirk. “He said some nasty things when he was drunk but I think he rested a little easier when he caught me with a girl once or twice too. We moved to South Dakota for a while to stay with friends while my dad cleaned up. He just couldn't be around that house any more, around all those memories of Mom." 

“Why did you come back?” Cas asked. He took a tentative step toward Dean and felt a wash of relief when Dean didn’t back away. 

Dean just shrugged in that nonchalant way he often did. “I needed to make cash to send Sammy to school. Bobby at the auto shop offered me fair pay and I'm pretty sure he doubled my Christmas bonuses just because he knew I would give it to Sammy. He was like a dad to us, you know. 

“Anyway, Dad had burned all the bridges in Sioux Falls and there wasn't any place left to go. So we came home. We just didn't go back to that house. And it was fine for a while. But he was drinking again and things just went from bad to worse. It killed him, in the end. Liver failure. Real slow and ugly. I'm just glad Sammy never had to see it.” 

Castiel’s heart ached for this beautiful man and his huge heart. He watched Dean with Sam all those years ago and admired the way the older boy protected his little brother. And to Castiel’s surprise, Dean was no different from that selfless, honest young man he had fallen in love with in his youth. 

“You shouldn't have had to deal with that on your own, Dean,” Cas said, reaching out a hand to grasp Dean’s shoulder, wanting to offer comfort but unsure if he was allowed to give it. 

Dean looked at him strangely for a moment before his expression twisted back into that self deprecating smirk he so often wore and that Castiel wanted to kiss away. "I wasn't alone. I have Ellen, Jo and Bobby. And Sammy and I still talk all the time. I don’t even know why I told you all that. It was probably way more information than you wanted to know.” 

But Cas didn’t want to hear his apologies. He wanted to know Dean, to hear about every moment of his life to better know the man who had existed on a pedestal in the recesses of Castiel’s mind for so many years. Why had Dean Winchester, with his honest face and strong hands, possessed him all this time? He wasn’t the type Cas usually went for, at least, not anymore. There had been a series of Dean lookalikes during his college days and a couple here and there after Castiel had joined the firm. But they all fell pitifully short and Cas eventually accepted the fact that there was no one as beautiful or as kind as the Dean Winchester of his memories. At some point, Cas (with the help of his therapist) came to the conclusion that he had romanticized Dean, had idealized him past the point of reality in order to avoid accepting the faults of real human beings that might want to be part of Castiel’s life. It wasn’t healthy for one to be so hung up on their high school crush, even if said crush was the handsome, the unforgettable, the annoyingly unavoidable Dean Winchester. 

But now that he was here, standing in Dean’s kitchen, knowing the touch of his hands and the weight of his body, hearing the depth of his devotion to his family and friends, all of those rational thoughts went out the window. Castiel would have to be a fool to let Dean get away from him again, to give up on the man of his dreams when he was finally within reach. 

“Dean, I – ” Castiel started, but was interrupting by the trill of his cell phone where it sat on the kitchen counter. He glared at the thing, but answered it reluctantly. 

“Novak,” he answered tightly. 

_“What the hell, Cassie. It’s creepy when you answer the phone like that."_  

“Hello, Gabriel. I didn’t realize it was you,” Cas said with a sigh, cursing his brother’s poor timing. 

_“Do you even know about caller_ _ID_ _?_ _Never_ _mind_ _. Singer called. Anna’s van is ready and he wants us to come pick it up. It’s time to move on and out brother. Back to the big city at last. That is, unless you’ve decided to shack up with a certain freckled mechanic and live out the rest of your days in Kansas?_ _"_  

Of course, Gabriel knew exactly where Cas was and would probably tease him about it mercilessly. He was tempted to just tell his nosy brother that yes, he had decided to quit his job at the firm and stay here with Dean, just to see what would happen. But he didn’t. Cas took one look at Dean and knew the moment had passed. 

“I’ll be there in ten,” Castiel said and hung up. He turned to Dean who had returned his attention to loading the dishwasher. “The car is ready. We have to head back to Kansas City so that I can catch my flight home this evening.” 

Castiel almost wished that Dean would protest, would convince him to stay just one more day, but it was clear that Dean didn’t feel the same. It was all just a bit of fun and he was going to let Cas carry on his way. 

“Yeah, I finished that repair up yesterday. Old man must have forgotten to let you know,” Dean said with a snort. “You’ll be heading out now then?” 

“Yes,” Castiel answered. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Er, no problem, Cas.” Dean fidgeted a little and then shoved his hands in his pockets. “See you in another ten years maybe?” 

“I certainly hope so,” Castiel responded. “Goodbye, Dean.” 

He placed a gentle kiss on Dean’s cheek and turned to leave. He ignored the churning in his gut and the lump that rose like a stone in his throat. Once he was outside, he took a deep breath and walked down the sidewalk, got into Baby Shit Green and drove away without looking back. 

When he returned to his father’s house, he packed his things quickly and did his best to ignore Gabriel’s jeers and Anna’s prying questions. After placing their few belongings into the car, they drove to Singer Salvage to pick up the van and drove directly back to Kansas City. Anna arranged to return to Lawrence in a few weeks to supervise the estate sale and liquidate the last of their father’s things before the house went on the market. Gabriel and Castiel had no reason to ever return to Lawrence, Kansas. While Gabriel relished this fact rather vocally on the drive to Singer’s, Castiel couldn’t help but lament, just a little. 

When they arrived at Singer Salvage, Bobby greeted them with a grunt and thrust a clipboard with a few sheets of paper attached to Cas. He signed them, wrote the check and Bobby handed him the keys. And maybe he imagined it, but he could have sworn Singer gave him a particularly long, hard look before handing them the receipt and returning his attention to the stack of papers scattered across his desk. 

Castiel drove the van back to Kansas City while Gabriel and Anna chattered away. Cas was engrossed in the road and his own thoughts and it was a few moments before he realized Anna was asking him a question. 

“Earth to Cas! Helloooo!” 

“Sorry, what?” Cas asked as Anna waved her hands in front of him. 

“I said, is it true that you disappeared to Dean Winchester’s house last night? Or is Gabriel just running his fat mouth?” Anna had a shrewd look on her face that implied she already knew the answer and Gabriel snorted loudly from the back seat. So, Castiel didn’t bother to lie. 

“Yes, it’s true.” 

Anna squealed and Cas cringed at the high-pitched sound. “Oh my god, I knew it! Did you sleep with him? Was it amazing? Are you going to see him again? You have to tell me!” 

Castiel let out a put upon sigh and answered Anna as concisely as possible, uncomfortable divulging the details of his sex life with anyone, nonetheless his baby sister. “Yes, I did. Yes, it was. And no, absolutely not.” 

Castiel didn’t have to turn his attention from the road to know that his sister was pouting next to him in the passenger seat. “Why not? He was your high school crush and you were reunited! It’s so perfect! And he seems like a nice guy. Sure is good looking enough.” 

“Anna, it was just a one night stand. Just a bit of fun,” Castiel explained. 

“But what if you’re meant to be! It would be so cute. Two high school sweethearts reunited in the wake of tragedy meet again and fall in love, despite the odds.” Anna said wistfully, clasping her hands in front of her chest. 

“Jesus Christ, woman, you have been watching way too many Drew Barrymore movies. It’s sickening,” Gabriel quipped. 

“I always thought of myself as more of a Sandra Bullock, anyway,” Cas muttered and Gabriel laughed, clapping him on the shoulder from the backseat. Anna continued to pout but she didn’t bring up Dean again for the rest of the drive. 

Late that evening, Castiel arrived in New York City. He took a cab back to Manhattan from JFK and picked up some Chinese food from the little restaurant next to his building. He juggled his suitcase and the plastic bag of takeout into his apartment where he dropped the suitcase in the living room and took the food into the bedroom where he proceeded to eat it out of the soggy paper cartons in bed with the TV on without bothering to turn on any of the lights. After he finished eating, he stripped off his clothing, set his alarm for 5:30 AM and fell asleep the drone of Seinfeld reruns. That night, he dreamed of green eyes, golden freckles, the smell of motor oil and the taste of sweetened strawberries on his tongue for the first time in years.


	7. Chapter 7

_Two weeks later…_   

 

“So have you talked to him since?” Charlie asked as she chewed her straw and then sucked down half of her $16 margarita in one pull. 

Charlie agreed to meet him at a swanky bar on the top floor of the building where Castiel’s law firm was located. It wasn’t his favorite place and they usually preferred to meet at the little Cantina by Charlie’s flat in Brooklyn because the tequila was cheap and the tacos were to die for. But Cas was swamped at work since returning from Kansas and had barely bothered with sleep or food, except for the occasional nap on top of a tall stack of depositions or the Indian take out his secretary insisted he eat, which he shoveled into his mouth between conference calls without tasting it at all. So, Charlie had kindly made the trek into the city. The waiter had barely taken their drink orders before Cas blurted out that he had not only seen Dean Winchester, but spent the night with him. To his dismay, Charlie didn’t look particularly surprised. 

“We’ve texted a bit,” Cas said with a shrug before taking a sip from his glass of wine. “Every couple days or so.” 

“And?” Charlie pressed. “What does he say? Or does he just send you dick pics all day?” 

Cas snorted into his wine glass. “No, nothing like that.” 

Charlie looked disappointed. “So, what do you talk about?” 

“Not much, really. I just ask how he is doing and he tells me about his day.” 

“God, that’s so boring,” Charlie said with a roll of her eyes. 

“Well,” Cas blushed. “He did send me a picture of him mowing the lawn.” 

“Let me see,” Charlie demanded, thrusting her open palm in his direction. 

Cas flipped through his phone and pulled up the image. He had memorized every pixel of it by this point and was rather embarrassed about the amount of time he spent doing so. 

It had been a long day in court and Castiel’s client, an ignorant playboy with a trust fund and a penchant for expensive hookers and illegal poker games had patronized the judge and mocked the key witness and Cas had reached the limits of his patience. It took every last ounce of his education and experience to make it out of the courtroom with an acquittal and by the time he was finally heading home, he was in a stormy mood and had a date with a bottle of Bordeaux and nature documentary marathon on the National Geographic channel. He was just entering the elevator that led to his fifth floor apartment when his phone chimed. The message was from Dean. 

**_Mowed the lawn_** ** _2day_** ** _. Made me think of you. Thought about checking the bushes but didn’t want to be disappointed._**  

The attached image took Castiel’s breath away and he had to brace himself against the wall, garnering a few cautious looks from the elderly woman in the Chanel suit and the straight-backed Wall Street executive sharing the elevator with him. The photo was a little blurry but it was definitely Dean’s face wreathed in summer sunshine, his emerald eyes were creased at the corner against the light and his bottom lip was clamped between his teeth. And although the picture didn’t show much, he could tell Dean was shirtless, his broad, bare shoulders just barely visible in the frame. 

When the elevator doors opened, Cas marched directly to his bedroom and spent the rest of the evening touching himself to the memory of Dean’s hands on his skin, the sound of his name on Dean’s lips. 

So when Cas pulled up the image and handed his phone to Charlie, he was sporting a justifiable blush across his cheeks and ears. Just the reminder of that night made something jump in his stomach to match the pang in his chest. 

“Holy Ken doll, Cas. Time has been kind to Mr. Winchester. Have you called him? Actually spoken to him? Like, with your voice?” Charlie asked, handing his phone back. 

“I’ve been very busy. You know that,” Cas said weakly. 

“Dude. I feel weird that I have to force so-called ‘girl-talk’ on you, but here it is. You’ve been obsessed with this guy since high school, right? Every time you run into him unexpectedly, you end up hooking up with him, insulting him and running away to hide and pine after him for another ten years. Am I right?” 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Cas mumbled. 

“So call him. Say, ‘hello Dean Winchester, it’s me, Castiel Novak, the sexy lawyer guy with the blue eyes with whom you touch wieners every ten years. I’ve loved you since puberty and I want your sweet ass right here, right now. Want to come visit me for a fuck fest in New York, all expenses paid?’” 

“He doesn’t feel that way about me, Charlie. It was a one night stand followed by some mild and occasional flirting. It’s nothing. I’ll forget all about Dean Winchester soon enough,” Cas stated, hoping the finality that he didn’t feel translated into the tone of his voice. 

“Your therapist might as well start sending Winchester royalty checks because you, my friend, are hung up on the dude. I’d bet money he’s just as hung up on you. I mean, c’mon,” Charlie reached across the table and pinched his cheek a little too hard and Cas resisted the urge to slap her hand away. “Just look at this face!” 

Charlie ordered second margarita and Cas finished another glass of red wine while they continued to catch up on each other's busy lives. They discussed work and Charlie’s new girlfriend Gilda and the obscene prices of the beverages they had just consumed and promised never to meet there again. Around eight thirty, Cas plead fatigue and Charlie bid him goodbye with a long hug and a friendly slap on the ass before he put her in a cab and lingered as it pulled away from the curb. 

Cas had a car, a rather nice one, in fact, but he rarely ever drove to work, finding the New York City traffic too rage inducing, and decided to walk home. While he walked, the sweat beginning to bead across his forehead and dampen his dark curls in the humid summer night, he thought about Charlie’s advice. Should he call Dean? Moments before fleeing his home, Castiel had been sure he wanted to see Dean again. Was there any chance Dean might want to see him again too? Would he find the offer to fly him to New York for a weekend too serious or heavy handed? 

Castiel’s finger hovered over the call button on Dean’s name in his contact list nearly eight times before he tossed his phone away frustrated and went to bed early. 

___________________ 

  

Cas woke an hour early for work the following morning and went for a run in the park to relieve some tension before heading to the office to conquer a mountain of paperwork and client calls. He showered quickly and dressed in his favorite charcoal gray suit and drove his Benz to work for the first time in weeks, desperately grateful for the powerful air conditioning he paid extra for in the wake of the humidity that was already suffocating seven in the morning. 

By the time he got off the elevator on his floor, the tension had returned. Cas made a beeline for his corner office, avoiding any confrontations with the employees or his secretary before he finished his double Americano. He managed to make it inside and get a few hours of work done before the office was humming and in full swing. He was considering calling the deli on the fourth floor and having them deliver some overpriced sandwich while he was chained to his desk when his secretary, Pamela, knocked lightly on his door. 

“Sorry to bother you Mr. Novak, but there is someone here to see you,” Pamela said, leaning casually against the door frame to Castiel’s office with a pencil twisted in her long dark hair. 

“I wasn’t aware I had any appointments today,” Cas said distractedly. 

“You didn’t, but this one just dropped by and is rather insistent,” Pamela said. 

Castiel finally tore his eyes from his desk and fixed his smirking secretary with a disapproving stare. “I don’t have time for clients who want to just ‘drop by.’ Reschedule them for a later date and extend my apologies. I really shouldn’t have to explain this to you, Pamela. You’ve worked for me for nearly two years now. You know I don’t do walk-ins.” 

Cas returned his attention to his work but Pamela cleared her throat loudly. “I think you’re going to want to see this one, Castiel.” 

Pamela was an excellent secretary and had a good understanding of decorum. Despite their rapport, she only called Castiel by his first name when she felt the need to question his judgment, or demand he leave the office and get some rest. 

“He’s a looker,” she said with a grin and turned on her heel and left. 

Cas sighed and straightened his tie, giving his heap of paperwork one last longing look before turning to the door to meet his client. He half expected the brat from the prostitution/gambling case to walk in and demand Castiel defend him against another obscene charge, but that wasn’t who walked in. No, it wasn’t even close. 

“Uh, hey Cas,” Dean said, shifting restlessly in the doorway. He was wearing dark jeans, an olive green t-shirt, heavy black boots and a dazzling but uncertain smile. 

“Dean?” Cas managed as soon as he could get his brain working again. 

Dean glanced over his shoulder at Pamela, who gave him a wink and wandered away from her desk. Dean hovered in the doorway for a moment before stepping completely into Castiel’s office. 

“Sorry to barge in here, I know you’re busy and I meant to call beforehand but, um, to be honest, I kept losing my nerve,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck with one broad hand. 

“So, you just looked me up and showed up at my office mid day?" Cas asked. He didn’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but the words had already left his mouth before he could call them back. Cas rarely found himself so floored he floundered for words, but then again, this was Dean Winchester he was talking to. 

Dean held up his hands defensively. “I’m not some kind of stalker, I swear. Sammy had an interview with a firm in town and he asked me to come with him, moral support, you know? Unlike you, I look people up when I’m in the vicinity.” 

Cas didn’t stifle his smile. “I’m not going to live that one down, am I?” 

“Nope, sorry man. But, uh, if you aren’t too annoyed about me showing up uninvited, maybe you could make it up to me?” Dean looked hopeful and Cas willed his knees not to give out. 

Dean was here, standing in his office, making Cas smile despite a rather dismal workday and looking so incredibly beautiful and uncharacteristically unsure that Cas couldn’t resist this man if he tried. 

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” Cas asked, arching one dark brow. 

“I was thinking dinner, maybe?” Dean said with a smirk and a shrug. 

“I don’t know, Dean,” Cas said with a sly smile. “You’re about ten years early, by my count.” 

“Yeah, well, I’ve decided I can’t wait that long, not this time,” Dean’s eyes were soft. “So, what do you say? Burger and a beer? Maybe a slice of pie?” 

“Yes, of course. I’d like that Dean,” Castiel replied, feeling his heart soar uncharacteristically. “Where are you staying? I’ll meet you there." 

“Oh, Sammy and I are crashing at a buddy’s place in Brooklyn.” 

“You came all the way here from Brooklyn on the chance that I’d be here to ask if I want to have dinner?” 

Dean just shrugged. “More like all the way from Kansas, but yeah. Something like that.” 

Despite being fairly certain he was too old to be blushing this frequently, Castiel could feel the flush of heat up his neck and across his face. “Well, I’m flattered.” 

And he was. Cas had tortured himself for weeks with thoughts of Dean; daydreams in which he would appear unexpectedly, once again, and make his heart do cartwheels in his chest. And yet, he never gathered enough nerve to call Dean and ask to see him one more time. But Dean beat him to it and while Cas cursed his cowardice, he’d never been so grateful for Dean’s easy confidence. Maybe this time, Cas could convince _Dean_ to stay, to find out if perhaps there was something more between them than lingering memories and a heady attraction. Maybe this time, Cas could find out if Dean felt his chest constrict every time they were in the same room or if he found himself thinking of Castiel every time he closed his eyes to sleep. 

“Text me the address and I’ll pick you up, say eight?” Castiel offered. 

“Eight sounds good, but I’ll drive. I’ve got Baby with me,” Dean responded. 

“You _drove_ here?” 

“Yeah man. I don’t do planes,” Dean explained with a visible shiver. “Eighty ton tin cans don’t belong in the sky. I like to keep all four wheels planted firmly on the ground, thank you very much. And be honest, you’re dying for another ride in my car. It’ll be like old times,” Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows and Castiel’s flush deepened. 

“Despite a fear of flying being entirely illogical, I can’t say I’d mind seeing the passenger seat of the Impala after all these years,” Cas said truthfully. 

“It’s decided then. I’ll pick you up at your place at eight.” 

“Alright, I’ll send you the address.” 

“Awesome, see you then, Cas,” Dean said, turning to leave. As he reached the door to Castiel’s office he turned halfway around and said over his shoulder. “And Cas?” 

“Yes?” 

“I’m liking the suit,” Dean said followed by a low whistle that drew the attention of some of the residents of the cubicles outside Castiel’s office. “A helluva lot.” 

And Dean Winchester winked and it was like a lightning storm of anticipation, joy and _want_ burst to life in Castiel’s belly. He sunk into his leather office chair and closed his eyes, just for a moment. 

Dean Winchester had a way of showing up when he least expected and in moments would manage reduce the usually well-composed Castiel to a fumbling, muttering preteen. Dean may have surprised him, yet again, but this time Cas was ready for him. And when Dean arrived at his apartment that evening at eight o’clock looking even more blindingly beautiful than in Cas' fantasies, he knew what to expect. Finally, he didn’t hide from Dean Winchester, but instead Castiel walked right up to that beautiful man in that big black car and let himself be carried away.


End file.
